Reason For Living
by RobzBeanie
Summary: NOMINATED FOR THE LEMONADE STAND FIC OF THE WEEK 6/16! A man who just wants to live and a woman who forgot how to live. Can they be what the other needs to survive? Recluse Bella gets a surprise when she answers her door. Rated C for Cheekyward. AH, Tattward
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Thanks for checking out my new story! The one-shot "Instant Karma" is a prequel of sorts for this story, covering Bella's back story. It can be considered a spoiler, as her background is revealed a piece at a time throughout this story, but feel free to read it if you like to be spoiled. If you don't wish to be spoiled, I will let you know when it's safe to read "Instant Karma."

Moosals is my pre-reader again, and has been along for the ride since the day I first e-mailed her my plot bunny idea!

* * *

_Thursday, September 13, 2012_

"How about I come down to the lake and take you out to dinner this weekend for your birthday?" my father's voice comes through the computer.

"Dad, I really don't feel like going out," I reply with an exasperated sigh.

"You never feel like doing _anything_, Bells."

"Don't start, Dad." I love my father. I do. But every week, it's the same argument.

"Look, Bells, you're 30 years old now. You are wasting your life living by yourself in the middle of nowhere. You don't see anyone, you don't do anything… I worry about you."

"I'm fine, Dad. And I do something — you know I'm writing for an online blog."

"I just wish you'd go back into society. If not Seattle, you can come back to Forks. Dr. Gerandy from the animal hospital is going to be retiring in a few months. Please, Bella, just promise me that you'll think about it," my dad implores.

"Fine," I sigh. "I'll think about it." For two seconds.

Suddenly, I hear a loud pounding at my front door. My head turns toward the noise, while Leo, my very furry orange tabby cat, jumps from my lap to go hide underneath the kitchen table. Wimp.

"Is that someone at the door?" Dad asks, hearing the noise easily via our Skype connection.

"Yeah. Probably just UPS or something. Mom said she was shipping my birthday gift. Let me sign off and get that. I'll talk to you next week, all right?"

"All right, goodbye, Isabella. And think about what I said."

Closing the connection, I roll my eyes at my dad's badgering. I'm just not ready to face the world again. I don't know if I ever will be.

The pounding starts again as I unlock all of the deadbolts that my dad, ever the vigilant cop, installed on the door after I moved in here. "Just a second," I call.

Once I finally get the door open, I'm shocked when a tall figure rushes into the house. The only thing I register is that he's wearing an orange jumpsuit — like you see prisoners wear in cop shows on TV.

"Close the fucking door," he yells. Without thinking, I slam the door shut and turn around to inspect the intruder. The staring contest that we now seem to be in gives me ample opportunity to study him. He's tall — definitely over 6-foot — and lean, with a head of messy reddish-brown hair on top of his head.

And if the orange jumpsuit didn't give it away, the fact that his hands are handcuffed together and he's holding a gun would be enough to tell anyone that this guy is bad news.

I'm too shocked to scream, too shocked to do anything but stare at him. When he finally moves, I hear myself give an involuntary yelp. Fuck, where is my purse? I swear my dad gives me a new can of pepper spray every time he sees me, but I always keep it in my purse.

It takes me a moment to register what the prisoner is doing — he's closing all of the window blinds.

"Please don't hurt me," I utter meekly.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he replies shortly. "I need you to help me get these handcuffs off and find me some less conspicuous clothes, then I'll be out of your hair."

I just stare at him. He wants me to help him escape from prison? Well, I guess he already did that, but still, he wants to make me some kind of accessory?

"I promise," he adds, when I don't reply.

I swallow hard before speaking. "Do you have the key for the handcuffs?"

"If I did, I wouldn't need your help," he replies, rolling his eyes.

"Um, am I supposed to know how to remove them without a key?"

"No," he snorts, "I guess not. You look like a good girl — not the type who likes to get kinky in the bedroom with a pair of handcuffs."

Embarrassed by his correct assumption, I slowly walk toward the kitchen, keeping one eye on him. "Um, my dad might have like a hacksaw or wire cutters or something, from when he used to come down here fishing."

"Stop looking at me like that."

I stop abruptly. "Like—like what?" I stutter.

"Like I'm gonna hurt you. I've never hurt a woman. As long as you don't try anything, I won't lay a finger on you."

"O—ok," I reply as he follows me into the kitchen. There is a box of my dad's tools on the bottom of one of the cabinets. I almost never go in there, so I'm not really sure what I'll find.

"You escaped from Stafford Creek?" I ask in a pointless bid to make conversation while I search through the box. Stafford Creek is a state prison located out on State Route 105. It's about 10 miles from here though, so he's come a long way if that's where he escaped from.

"Not quite."

He doesn't elaborate and I wonder what on earth that is supposed to mean.

"I'm not guilty," he says quietly. "I was tried and convicted for something I didn't do."

"Wouldn't anyone say that?"

"Probably, but I'm not lying to you."

"Ok," I reply as I finally find a hacksaw buried in the box.

"That?" he scoffs. "You might be able to cut through the chain with that, but you'll never be able to cut through the cuffs."

"It's a start, isn't it? At least your hands will be separated."

"Fine. Whatever," he replies as he takes a seat on one of my kitchen chairs. I'm shocked to see Leo slink out from under the table to sniff at his leg and shoe. Leo _hates_ strangers and usually hides under my bed whenever there's another human being in the house.

I am just about to pull out the chair next to the prisoner when I hear another knock at the front door. Both of us freeze in place, just staring at one another.

"Is anyone home?" a muffled voice calls through the door. "It's the police."

"Fuck," he whispers, staring at me. The look on his face is one of unbridled panic. And in that moment, he reminds me so much of myself on the day my life changed forever. The day I'd give anything to take back. It's too late for me, but it's not too late for him. He still has a chance to live.

Standing quickly, I urge him to stand up. "Go hide in the bathroom," I whisper, pointing out the room. "I'll get rid of them."

He walks to the bathroom, but then stops, looking at me skeptically. "How do I know you're not gonna turn me in?"

"You don't, I guess," I shrug. "But I won't. I—I believe you." I'd never tell him, but I also trust my cat's instincts.

As he moves behind the bathroom door, I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. I can do this. I've lied before, after all. _But look what that cost you, Bella._

"Good evening, officers," I say with a forced smile as I open the front door. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get to the door; I was in the bathroom," I lie smoothly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Ma'am, a bus carrying new inmates to Stafford Creek ran off the road about a mile from here. One of the men escaped. Have you seen or heard anything unusual this afternoon?"

So that's what he meant by "not quite."

"No, I—I haven't. Should I be concerned?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the officer replies. "This man should be considered armed and dangerous. Lock your doors and windows, and if you see anything suspicious, call 9-1-1 immediately."

"Of—of course. Thank you for letting me know."

"Have a good evening, Ma'am," he says as he turns to leave.

"I hope you catch him," I call after the officer before closing and locking the door. I remain standing there, breathing deeply again. When I finally turn around, I'm startled to see the prisoner right in front of me. I hadn't really studied his face until now. His eyes are a startling green, staring into mine. And my God, he's is a good looking young man.

"I hope you catch him," he parrots.

I shrug. "It sounded like something I should say?"

He makes a face, shaking his head, then holds up his bound hands, still holding the gun in his right one. "The handcuffs?"

"Right, come on," I reply, motioning him back to my small kitchen. He sits heavily on the chair, holding his hands out to me.

"Um, could you maybe not be pointing the gun at me as I'm trying to do this?" When he doesn't move, I continue, "I won't pick it up and use it against you. If I wanted to do something like that, I would've told the cop where you were."

"Fine," he sighs, gingerly setting the gun on the table. "Do you know how to handle that if you did pick it up?" he asks, nodding toward the gun.

"Um, yeah, I do. My dad is Chief of Police up in Forks."

His eyes widen but he only moves to hold his hands out again. I begin sliding the hacksaw back and forth over the chain separating the two cuffs, pushing down as hard as I can. No one is more surprised than me when the chain finally snaps.

"Fucking finally," he sighs, stretching his now-separated arms out in front of him. "We're not done yet though."

Glancing down, I notice for the first time a dark stain on the left side of his stomach, just above his waist — blood.

"Oh my God," I gasp, "Have you been shot?"

"Yeah, a fucking guard got me as I was running off. It's not bad."

"Not bad," I repeat. "It's a gunshot wound. Let me look at it."

"Are you a doctor?"

"Not exactly," I reply.

"A nurse?"

I shake my head. "I'm a veterinarian."

He stares at me, mouth gaping. "So you know how to treat a gunshot wound?" he finally asks.

"Well, not really. I did once. A kid was playing with his dad's gun and accidentally shot the family dog," I explain. "Just let me see it."

"I think you just want to see me half-naked," he replies with a smirk and a wink, as he starts unbuttoning the prison-issue jumpsuit.

As he shrugs the oh-so-attractive garment off his shoulders, my eyes widen as the colorful ink adorning his chest and arms is revealed to me. I can't help staring at the images, wondering what each of them means.

When he is finally naked to the waist, I shake myself out of my stupor and try to concentrate on his wound. There is far too much blood to really see anything, so I quickly run to the bathroom and get a washcloth, holding it under the faucet.

As I wipe the blood away, I see the entrance hole near his side. Almost missed him. "Turn for me," I direct quietly. I almost miss it in the mass of colors, but there is another smaller hole in his back — exit wound.

"Well, the good news," I explain, "Is that you don't have a piece of metal inside you. The bullet went right though."

"So I'm fine," he replies with a shrug.

"Not so fast… who knows what the bullet may have hit. You could have internal bleeding, or it could've damaged some of your internal organs."

"If it hit anything important, I wouldn't have been able to run a mile over here. Just put a bandage on it and I'll be fine."

I don't feel like arguing with him, so I go back to the bathroom for my first aid kit. Leo stands at the door watching me, then decides to follow me back into the kitchen, planting himself next to the prisoner's feet again.

Luckily, the hole in his back is small enough that just a large band-aid will cover it. I have to tape a bandage over the larger hole in his stomach.

"You can put your clothes back on now," I say when I'm finished.

"I'm good like this," he smirks. "It's warm in here with that fire burning in the fireplace."

It actually _is_ rather warm in here, but I'm not sure it's from the fire.

"Do you have a cigarette?"

"What? No, I don't smoke."

"Of course you don't," he mumbles. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, my eyes narrowed.

"Nothing, Good Girl."

And that reminds me.

"Look," I begin, "I really have no idea how to open handcuffs without a key. I have internet on my computer. Why don't you Google it or something while I make dinner?"

"Yeah, all right," he agrees, standing and picking up the gun. As he turns to walk over to the PC in my living room, I notice that his back is a little less colorful than his front, with only a large set of wings on the top of his back to go with the swirls of color that wrap around from his front near where he was shot. I've never really thought of ink as attractive before, but on this man, it is.

Tomorrow is my usual grocery shopping day, so it's kind of slim pickings for something I can make the two of us for dinner.

The two of us. I'm not used to cooking for two. I haven't cooked for two since…

No. I can't continue with that thought. The last thing I need is some sort of breakdown right now.

As I look through the cabinet that functions as my pantry, I finally give up on the idea of cooking something exciting and just grab a box of spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce. Everyone likes spaghetti.

After placing a pot of water on the stove to boil and pouring the sauce into a small saucepan, I go check on my "guest" in the living room.

"Find anything?" I ask, startled to see Leo curled up on the computer desk watching him. The gun is lying across his lap.

"Yeah, we need bobby pins. That's what all the articles say. There are even demonstration videos on YouTube."

I scrunch my nose. "Um, I don't think I have any bobby pins. I usually just pull my hair back in a ponytail. I'll go check in the bathroom though."

I spend a minute or so digging through my container of beauty supplies, but just as I suspected, no bobby pins, only ponytail holders.

"Sorry, I definitely don't have any," I report as I rejoin him in the living room. "I can get some tomorrow though."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, it's my shopping day. I'll pick some up at Walmart, along with some clothes for you like you wanted, then you can be on your way." I know he said he won't hurt me, but I just want him gone.

"Why can't you just go get them now?" he asks with a frown. "Isn't Walmart usually open 24 hours?"

"Walmart is three miles away," I respond.

"So what?"

"I don't drive," I explain. "A… a friend, I guess, will drive me to the store tomorrow, like she always does on Friday mornings."

"What the hell kind of American adult doesn't know how to drive?"

"I didn't say I don't know how. I said I don't drive." _Please, please, let him just accept that and not ask any more questions._

"Um, the water is probably boiling," I add, rushing back to the kitchen before he can say anything else. I dump the spaghetti I'd measured out earlier into the boiling water, then set the timer on the ancient stove.

"What are we having?" his voice asks from directly behind me, startling me.

"Um, just spaghetti." I give the sauce a stir before turning around. "Sorry it's not more exciting. I really need to do some grocery shopping tomorrow."

"It's fine," he shrugs. "Better than prison food."

"Have—have you been in jail for a while?" I ask nosily.

"I was out on bail most of the time before my trial. I've been at the Washington Corrections Center up in Shelton for about a month though."

"The cop said the bus transferring inmates to Stafford Creek ran off the road?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Swerved to avoid hitting a deer or something. Ran off the road and into a tree. In the chaos, I elbowed one of the guards in the face and grabbed his gun, then took off."

I stare at him, mouth agape.

"Don't look at me like that. I can't spend the next 25 years of my life in prison for something I didn't do."

"Ok, fine," I reply, holding up my hands in a gesture of surrender. "What would you like to drink?"

"A beer," he answers quickly.

"I, um, don't have any alcohol." I turn and dig through my fridge. "I can offer you Pepsi or water, or… well, about two sips of orange juice."

"The pop is fine."

I pour each of us a glass then turn back to our meal, stirring the spaghetti and sauce. I can feel his eyes watching me but I don't turn around. I need to avoid staring at his naked chest.

When the timer goes off, I quickly prepare two plates and carry them to the table. We eat in silence for several minutes before he finally speaks.

"So why don't you drive?"

"None of your business," I answer quickly.

"Have you tried?"

"Recently? No. I tried earlier this summer," I admit.

"And what happened?"

"Can we not talk about this?" I reply, quickly standing up to rinse off my plate.

"Fine," he sighs. "Could you put the fire out?"

"What?" I ask, spinning around to face him.

"In the fireplace. Could you put it out? It's hot in here."

My nose wrinkles. "It's not that hot." I notice beads of sweat on his brow and walk over to the table, laying the palm of my hand on his forehead.

"What are you doing?" he asks, trying to bat my hand away.

"You have a fever. It's probably from your wound. I _told_ you that needed to be cleaned out."

"I'm _fine_."

"No, you're not. Let me try to look at it."

"You're a vet, not a doctor," he scoffs.

"Well, unless you plan to turn yourself in, you're not going to get a doctor."

"Forget it," he says, standing up from the table. "I wish you had a fucking beer."

Shaking my head, I grab his plate and begin washing our dishes. After using the bathroom, he plants himself on my couch and picks up the remote control.

I spoon some canned food out for Leo, then spend as much time as possible cleaning everything in the kitchen before I finally make my way into the living room. He glances up at me, and I notice he seems to be looking worse. His face is so pale.

"Ready to let me look at it yet?" I ask snarkily.

"No."

"What's your name?" I ask, sitting on the far end of the couch from where he's slouched.

"Edward. You?"

"Bella."

"Beautiful."

"Do you know how many times I've heard that cheesy line in my life?" I snort.

"Does it work?" he asks with a grin.

"No, it doesn't."

We sit and watch a movie on HBO, Leo curled up in my lap, before Edward gets up and walks back into the bathroom. It's getting late, and Mrs. Cope will be over by 9am, so I decide to grab some extra blankets from my bedroom and start making Edward a bed on the couch.

Spotting the gun sitting near the corner of the couch, I reach for it, but then stop, pulling my long sleeve down over my hand. I pick it up with the sleeve so that I don't leave fingerprints, hiding it in my jewelry box on top of my dresser. I'm searching the top of my closet for an extra pillow when I hear the bathroom door open and Edward appears in the bedroom doorway.

"I don't… feel so good," he says quietly. I look over at him and gasp. He's now deathly pale and sweating profusely.

I quickly move from the closet and reach an arm around him to try and prop him up. "Let's get you back to the couch."

Edward takes one step and falls to his knees, looking up at me with a heartbreaking expression. "I… can't…"

Shit. "All right, change of plans — can you get to the bed?" He's no more than five feet from the end of my bed.

Crawling on his knees, Edward reaches the bed, and I help him to stand up enough that he can sit on the edge.

"Am I gonna die?" he asks as I help him lie down.

"Not if I can help it. I wish you would've let me look at your wound more earlier," I admonish.

"Yeah, yeah… just like a woman to always have to be right."

I help him to arrange himself with his head on my pillow then begin taking his shoes off. "You'd better not bleed on my bed," I warn before I start tugging the ugly orange jumpsuit down his hips.

"Trying to have your way with me?" he asks with one eye closed.

"You wish. I'm trying to make you comfortable."

"Thank you," he says quietly, reaching out to grab my hand.

Nodding, I give him a small smile. "I'll pick up some things tomorrow to try and fix you up, all right?"

"You won't turn me in?"

"I told you I won't. I'll pick up whatever you need so you can leave. Just try to rest now. I'll be back with a cool washcloth for your forehead."

When Edward closes his eyes, I dart into the bathroom. He's out cold by the time I return to him. I do my best to place a towel underneath him, in case his wounds start bleeding. Gently, I rub the washcloth over his face and chest, trying to cool him down. He can't die here in my bed — how the hell would I ever explain that?

I grab my first aid kit from the kitchen, looking for anything that might be useful, but there really isn't much. After confirming his temperature with my thermometer, I find a small bottle of rubbing alcohol that might kill some of the likely infection in his wound.

Carefully removing the bandage on his stomach, I pour a little bit of the alcohol into the wound, thankful that Edward is pretty much passed out — or he'd be yelping in pain right about now. Adding a clean bandage, I pull the covers over his nearly naked body, find myself some pajamas and turn out the bedroom light.

Guess I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight.

* * *

**A/N: **This Edward has been nicknamed Cheekyward by moosals and me. What do you think of him so far? The book cover is how I picture him.

For "Oh Brother" readers, most of the chapters in the first half of the story are longer than what you may be used to seeing from me, before reverting back to my typical 2,500-word chapters for most of the second half.

Note to readers afraid of a WIP: this story is entirely prewritten, except for the Epilogue, so postings will be regular.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Thanks for the great response to Chapter 1! I love to hear from all of you. "Instant Karma" got about a third as many visitors as Chapter 1, which means that about a third of you like to be spoiled. :)

* * *

_Friday, September 14, 2012_

I'm awake with the sunrise. I forget where I am for a moment but my stiff neck reminds me — I spent the night on my couch because there's a passed-out prisoner in my bed.

I fill a glass with water and creep into the bedroom. It looks like my "patient" had a rough night, as the sheets and blanket are tangled up, half on the floor. Leo is curled up sleeping on the end of the bed, right next to Edward's right foot.

"Edward?" I whisper, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Edward!" In the corner of my eye, I see Leo jump down and run out of the room.

When Edward's eyes flutter open, I gently lift his head, placing the glass to his lips. "Try to drink something."

When he drinks as much as he can, I set the glass on the nightstand and dampen a washcloth in the bathroom. Softly, I brush it over him, cleaning the sweat from his face and torso. "Hang on just a little longer, ok? I'll be back in a few hours with medical supplies."

When he grunts in response, I hold the glass to his lips again. "Take a few more sips for me."

I brush his sweaty hair back, noticing how soft it feels in my hands. It's been so long since I touched a man.

I open the curtains a little bit, letting some light into the gloomy bedroom. Carefully, I pull the bandage off Edward's stomach and clean his wound again. And then I stare.

Close up, his tattoos are beautiful, swirls of color on his too-pale skin. His entire right arm is a mass of color with some sort of Vegas or gambling theme. There are images of a pair of dice, a slot machine, a roulette wheel, playing cards… it's oddly fascinating.

His left arm is full of scary, cartoonish images. They seem vaguely familiar, but I can't quite place them. Most of his torso is covered in more "traditional" tattoos, with a large devil covering at least half of his chest. A butterfly covering his heart flanks a set of what looks like initials written in an elegant script, along with two dates, 1965-1988.

I wonder who E.A.M. might be, and why Edward would care to memorialize him or her. Lying unconscious on my bed, he looks frighteningly young. I'm not even sure he was _alive_ in 1988.

Feeling vaguely creepy for the way I'm studying him, I leave Edward alone and get ready for the day. After taking a quick shower, I dress in my usual comfortable clothes, feed the cat, and scramble a couple of eggs for my own breakfast. I'd just have cereal or something, but I'm out of milk.

It's nearly 9am when I hear Mrs. Cope's car pull up outside. I grab my jacket and purse, locking the door behind me.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cope," I say with a smile as I slip into the passenger seat.

"Oh dear, I really wish you'd call me Shelly after all this time," she replies with a light laugh.

"You know I was taught to respect my elders."

As we drive along the Olympic Highway, Mrs. Cope suddenly turns to me. "Oh, have you heard the news, dear?"

"What news?"

"It's all over the newspaper this morning. A prisoner on his way to Stafford Creek escaped yesterday afternoon, about a mile from where you are. I hope you're safe out there."

"I'm fine, Mrs. Cope. You know my dad has locks on all of the windows and three deadbolts on the front door."

"Still, you be careful out there until they catch this man. The paper said he's armed and dangerous, convicted of second-degree murder."

Second-degree murder? Holy shit! I guess Edward _had_ mentioned something last night about 25 years in prison, but murder?

No, I just can't believe it. I think back to the pale young man lying in my bed this morning, and I can't believe he's guilty of _murder_. He's definitely no choir boy, but I don't believe for one second that he's killed someone.

I'm lost in thought the rest of the way to the store. Mrs. Cope's voice startles me as she announces we've arrived when I don't move to exit the car.

"Sorry, got a lot on my mind," I reply sheepishly as I close the door. "Listen, um, I have a few extra things I want to look for before it gets real cold, so I might be a little longer than usual today."

"Oh, that's fine, dear. I actually need to take a little extra time myself. My grandson's birthday is next week and I wanted to look at some gifts for him."

Grabbing a cart, I head straight for the pharmacy area. I have medicine to treat a fever at home, but I need to treat the cause, not the symptoms. I pick up an antibiotic ointment, but I'm afraid Edward has already got an infection and that's really not going to do much. He needs some sort of oral antibiotic, but I can't get that without a prescription.

What I really need to do is some sort of minor exploratory surgery. He may need a few stitches but I doubt they sell the type of thread I'd really need. I pick up another bottle of rubbing alcohol and then decide I need a sharp knife, if I'm really going to enlarge the wound enough to know what we're dealing with. I've never done anything like this on a human before, but I tell myself it can't be that different from working on a dog or a cat. He's just… bigger. And less hairy.

Walking over to where they fill the prescriptions, I see that it's one of the times when a nurse is on staff. In this small town, the Walmart is pretty much the center of everything. The pharmacy area occasionally functions as an urgent care center and the nurse can write prescriptions for minor issues. Maybe there is a way I can get that antibiotic he needs.

"Can I help you, Ma'am?" the young man at the counter asks.

"Is—is the nurse available?" I stammer nervously.

"Let me check."

I fidget anxiously until he returns with a smile. "Yes, she's free — go on back."

"Thanks," I smile, opening the door.

"Hello, what can I help you with?" the dark-haired nurse asks as I step inside and take a seat.

"Um, I was hoping you could write me a prescription for a UTI."

"Oh, ouch, I hate those. Let me get a sample from you and we can run a couple tests."

"Oh, is that really necessary?" I ask, my heart falling. "I've had it before a couple of times and I definitely know the symptoms. I don't want to waste your time."

"Well, if you're sure…"

"I am," I reply, nodding.

The nurse hands me a paper to fill out my name, address and other personal information. "Let me just go check on what we've got in stock and I'll be right back."

As soon as she leaves me alone, I'm out of my chair. I need to find some thread, surely they do stitches here. I open a drawer in a tall storage cabinet and start digging around. Not in there. I open the next drawer — bingo! I quickly grab a suture kit and stuff it into my purse, sitting back down. I will myself to calm down before she notices my elevated heart rate.

I'm almost calm by the time the nurse comes back in. She reads over the information I've provided and scribbles on her prescription pad, tearing a sheet off and handing it to me. "Just take that up to the counter out there and they can fill it."

"Thank you so much, you're a life saver." I smile at her as I close the door, letting out a huge breath. First, aiding and abetting an escaped convict; now, stealing and lying to get a prescription.

Once I've got everything I need from the pharmacy, I find the beauty supplies and pick up a package of bobby pins, hoping I can follow the online tutorials and get the handcuffs open. I shrug before picking up a toothbrush for Edward. Now, clothes.

Well, he probably needs underwear, first of all. He's wearing boxers, so I grab a few cheap pairs of boxers. I find a pair of lounge pants so I don't have to look at his naked legs once he's able to get out of bed. He probably needs jeans for when he's ready to leave, but I have no clue what size he is. He's tall and thin, so I take my best guess. A couple of t-shirts and I call it good.

I get a few more things that I need then push my cart over to the grocery section. I should probably buy more than usual if I'm feeding two people, right? I know Edward said he'd be gone once I got the handcuffs off and he had new clothes, but he's in no condition to be going anywhere for at least a few more days. Of course, he's also not really in any condition to eat much right now.

Deciding the most he can handle for another couple of days would be soup, I buy the necessary ingredients for my famous vegetable soup, then pick up some chicken and fish for when he's feeling better.

_If_ he feels better, I guess. I refuse to think about the possibility that Edward might die because I am not getting him proper medical care.

"Did you get everything you needed?" Mrs. Cope asks when we meet near the front entrance.

"I did, thank you again for driving me." I really don't know what I would've done without Mrs. Cope's help in getting around. Every month or so, I start up my granddad's old Chevy and sit in the driver's seat but I can't even manage to shift out of Park before my breaths start coming too fast. My dad says I have PTSD, and he's probably right, but I'm not about to try speaking with a therapist again.

It takes me a few trips to get all of my purchases inside. After putting away anything that needs a refrigerator or freezer, I check on Edward in the bedroom. He's still burning up with fever. The glass of water is empty, so he must've been lucid enough at some point to finish drinking it.

I fill the glass again and bring the bottle of antibiotics with me into the bedroom, setting it on the nightstand.

"Edward?" I brush my fingers through his hair lightly until I see his eyelids flutter. "I need you to sit up a little, ok? I'll help you."

When I've got him partially sitting up, I bring the glass to his lips. "Drink this, and then I have a pill for you to swallow."

"A pill?" he rasps.

"Yeah. Antibiotics. You have an infection."

I give him one pill, then bring the glass to his lips again. "Drink up."

As I set the empty glass back down, I notice Edward staring at me. "Did you need something else?"

"Did you buy me cigarettes?"

"No, I did not buy you cigarettes. You should quit — it's bad for you."

"Yeah, yeah, you sound like my mother. Bathroom?"

"Uh… hmmm." There's no way he can walk that far, and I sure as hell can't carry him. But then I get an idea. "I'll be right back."

Moments later, I'm back with the rolling chair from my computer desk. Very carefully, I sit him up enough that he can move to the chair. He's still heavy, but I'm able to push him to the bathroom, thankful for the first time for the hardwood floors all over the small bungalow that I call my home.

I leave Edward and the chair in the bathroom then close the door to give him some privacy. I am _not_ going to help him pee.

I hear the toilet flush, and then the bathroom door opens. "Ready to go back to bed?" I ask.

"I was kind of hoping my nurse would give me a sponge bath," he smirks.

I roll my eyes, but decide to take the golden opportunity while he's able to sit up. Dampening a fresh washcloth, I wipe down his face and neck, then his torso and arms. "Lean forward," I direct before washing his back. Kneeling, I decide to wash his legs as well, before standing and rinsing out the cloth.

"You missed something."

"Are you serious right now?" I ask incredulously. "I am not sticking my hand in your boxers."

Edward just smiles a crooked smile. Damn, he's beautiful.

"Let's get you back to bed, all right?"

I push the chair back through the living room to the bedroom, trying not to run over my nosy cat's tail. Once I've got Edward sitting on the bed again, he grabs hold of my wrist. "Will you lie down with me?"

"No, I will not," I reply forcefully, pulling my hand away. "I need to take a look at your wound. I got some supplies from the pharmacy. You probably don't want to be conscious for this one."

"What are you gonna do?" he asks, lying back.

"Well, minor surgery, basically. I need to clean the wound."

His eyes widen but he remains quiet. "Can I have some beer first if it's gonna hurt?" he finally asks.

"I didn't buy any beer. I told you — I don't drink alcohol."

"Such a party pooper," he mumbles.

"Yeah, yeah. Get some rest. I'll come back when you're out of it and look at your wound. I'll try not to hurt you too much."

"Are you sure you can fix it?"

"No, but you don't really have another choice, do you?"

"No, I don't," he whispers, closing his eyes.

Once Edward is asleep, I sit down at my computer and Google gunshot wounds. I need to learn everything I can before I attempt this. I read for a couple of hours while petting Leo in my lap before making myself a sandwich.

After lunch, I check on Edward again. He seems pretty much out of it when I touch his chest, not moving or making any noise beyond his light breathing.

I bring my bag of supplies into the room and slip on a pair of rubber gloves. I dip my knife in rubbing alcohol before making a small incision to enlarge the wound. With a sponge, I soak up as much of the blood as I can so that I can see what I'm dealing with.

Beyond a hole in the muscle in his abdomen, it looks like the bullet missed anything vital. I make a couple of stitches in the muscle before pouring more of the rubbing alcohol on the wound. Pulling the skin as tight as I can, I make several more stitches to close the wound. I spread the antibiotic ointment all over the area before re-dressing with a new bandage.

Carefully, I roll Edward over onto his side so I can examine the exit wound. After pouring more alcohol on it, I repeat the steps from the entrance wound, then roll him back over. He's going to be in pain for a while, but hopefully a few more days of antibiotics should be enough to get him up and around again.

After cleaning everything up, I sit back down at my PC. Mrs. Cope said the story of Edward's escape was in the newspaper today, so I go to the paper's website to find out exactly what the police think he did.

_**Escaped Convict On The Loose In Aberdeen**_

_A bus carrying seven prisoners to Stafford Creek Correctional Center was involved in a one-vehicle accident Thursday afternoon. Convicted felon Edward Cullen, age 24, was able to overtake one of the two guards and escaped with the guard's gun._

_Police canvassed the area for several hours, knocking on the doors of all nearby residences, but were unable to find and capture the prisoner. If spotted, please call the Aberdeen police department or Stafford Creek immediately as he is considered armed and dangerous. When last seen, Cullen was wearing an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs._

_Cullen was convicted in a King County courthouse last month of breaking and entering, robbery and second-degree murder in the death of Rachel Weber, 42, in Bellevue last February._

_According to the police report, Mrs. Weber's body was discovered by her husband, Reverend Isaac Weber, 46, and their teenage daughter after they returned home from Reverend Weber's Sunday morning church service. The daughter reported that her mother went home early due to illness, and it is believed that she interrupted a robbery in progress._

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Reading the circumstances of the murder, it's somehow not as difficult for me to believe that Edward could've been involved. But he told me he had never hurt a woman. We need to talk as soon as he's able.

I'm still freaking out when I hear a knock at the front door. "Who is it?" I call before making a move to open it.

"FedEx, Ma'am. We have a delivery for you."

Quickly, I undo the locks and open the door, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of a man in uniform.

"Here you go, Ma'am," he says, handing me a small box.

"Thanks," I smile, closing the door behind him. Once it's locked, I carry the box into the kitchen and find a knife to open it. As expected, it's the birthday gift my mother said she was sending. Though who she thinks I'm going to impress with the bottle of expensive perfume, I have no idea.

I peek my head in to the bedroom to check on Edward, but he still seems to be resting comfortably. I take his temperature again, but it's still elevated. I suppose I can't expect one tablet to have completely knocked out the infection.

My soup needs several hours to simmer, so I get started with chopping vegetables and get a pot on the stove. I hope Edward is able to eat something; I'm pretty sure he threw up his dinner last night.

Once I'm finished prepping the soup, I come back to my computer to look at the pages Edward found on how to open handcuffs without a key. The demo videos make it look easy. I open the package of bobby pins and bend one at a 90-degree angle as the instructions state. I quickly print out the rest of the instructions, heading into the bedroom.

Edward is still sleeping soundly when I reach him. Taking a deep breath, I begin by pushing the straight end of the bobby pin into the lock mechanism. Ten minutes later, I'm getting very frustrated when finally it works! I quickly move on to the second cuff and after another five minutes of struggling, Edward is freed from the handcuffs.

I take a moment to examine the red marks left behind on his wrists. Nothing that won't go away in a couple of days, thankfully.

I'm brushing his hair back when I realize Edward is awake and watching me. "You're free," I say softly.

"What?"

"The handcuffs are gone," I reply, lifting his left wrist so that he can see. "Did you want some more water?"

When he nods his response, I again help Edward lift his head so that he can take a drink.

"Slow down," I admonish, smiling at his sheepish grin. "Dinner should be ready in an hour or so, all right?"

I move to leave but Edward reaches his left hand up, taking hold of my hand. "Stay with me."

"Edward," I warn him, rolling my eyes. Even barely conscious, he's incorrigible.

"Please?"

It's ridiculous, but I want to do this for him. Slowly, I lie down on my side next to where he lies in the middle of my bed. I really am pretty tired, since I didn't get a very good night's sleep on the couch. Within seconds I close my eyes, my hand still tightly held in Edward's.

When I open my eyes, I realize I slept much longer than I had wanted to, and it's nearly dark outside. I sit up, trying not to disturb Edward, and slowly pull my hand from his.

After running the printout with the instructions on removing handcuffs through my shredder, I toss the scraps in the trash. I wrap the handcuffs in several of the Walmart plastic bags and toss them in as well. I should probably delete the browser history the next time I'm on my PC, too, just in case.

In the kitchen, I feed Leo — you'd think he was starved from the way he whines — then stir the soup and ladle some into a bowl for myself, sitting down at the kitchen table to eat. When I'm finished, I make another bowl for Edward and carry it into the bedroom.

Setting the bowl on the nightstand, I begin shaking Edward's shoulder until his eyes open. "Time for dinner."

With my help, he's able to sit up leaning against the headboard. "Are you gonna feed me?" he asks, nodding at the bowl of soup.

"Yeah, that was the plan. I was afraid you wouldn't be able to keep anything else down."

Carefully, I take a spoonful of the soup and lift it to Edward's lips. "It's good," he says, sounding surprised.

"Of course it's good — I'm known for my vegetable soup." Or, I was.

Edward is able to finish most of the bowl I made for him, and amazingly I didn't spill anything on either him or my bed. Next I give him the glass of water and another dose of antibiotics.

"How did you get this?" he asks after swallowing the pill. "Don't they need a prescription?"

"I may have told a little white lie," I reply sheepishly. "Bathroom break again?"

At his nod, I get the chair from the living room, help Edward into it and push him to the bathroom, then go back to clean up the dishes from dinner.

"Where did you sleep last night?"

I nearly drop the bowl I'm drying when I hear Edward's voice behind me. Turning, I see that he has scooted the chair out into the living room, where he can watch me in the kitchen.

"On the couch," I answer quickly. "Where you'll be once I stop feeling sorry for you."

I almost laugh at the face he makes. "The bed seems big enough for two."

"Forget it. Do you want me to help you back into the bedroom?"

"Yes, please," he replies quietly.

I'm about to help Edward back into bed when I stop. "I should change the sheets. You were sweating pretty badly earlier."

Edward sits quietly in the chair while I strip the sheets, putting my only other set on in their place. I really need to do some laundry tomorrow. Once I'm finished, I help him stand and move to the bed, pulling the covers up over his legs.

I quickly change the larger bandage on his stomach, adding more of the antibiotic ointment, before getting ready to leave him for the night.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"You're fine, Edward," I reply, rolling my eyes. "Unless you want me to bring you Leo to use as a teddy bear. I'll check on you before I go to bed, all right?"

"Goodnight, Bella," he whispers as I walk out of the room.

Closing the door, I take the sheets into my small laundry room off the kitchen. Within days of moving here, I had a contractor make a few modification to what was once a mud room, for lack of a better term, so that I could purchase a washer and dryer. I hadn't thought of that small detail before moving in. I make another trip to the bathroom for the used towels and leave them with the pile of sheets to tackle tomorrow.

Once I finish up the dishes and put the soup away in the fridge, I relax on the couch, turning on the TV. When I find myself nearly falling asleep, I check on Edward one more time while I grab some pajamas, then go through my nightly routine in the bathroom.

Sighing, I set out the extra pillow and blankets on the couch, settling in for another lousy night's sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not a doctor, so forgive me if I got any of the medical stuff wrong!

So what are you all thinking? We got answers to two big questions from the reviews — Edward's age and what he was accused of. Do you believe Edward is innocent? How about Bella's little white lie to get him the antibiotic he needed? Anything else on your minds?


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Thanks to all of your who have Followed, Favorited or Reviewed this story! I love to hear from you. :)

* * *

_Saturday, September 15, 2012_

I awaken to Leo standing on my chest meowing at me — and another stiff neck. I really hope I can get my bed back soon.

"Let me guess, you want breakfast?" I ask him, petting his soft fur.

Edward is still out cold when I sneak into the bedroom to find some clothes to take into the bathroom with me. After a quick shower, I feed my cat and myself, then go check on Edward. Fuck, his forehead feels even warmer than it did yesterday. I quickly pop a thermometer into his mouth and then start to panic. I have got to bring his fever down.

Filling a glass with water, I take another antibiotic tablet from the bottle, along with some aspirin, and set everything on the nightstand.

"Edward," I call, shaking him awake. "Edward!"

"Mmmm… Mom?"

I can't help laughing. "Yes, it's your mother — time to get up for school."

"Don't wanna get up," he mumbles.

"Wake up for me, Edward," I demand, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

Slowly, his beautiful green eyes open to me… and then narrow. "You're not my mom."

"Not even close," I laugh. "Sit up for me; I bring drugs."

"Yeah? Did you score some weed?"

I stare at him, my mouth gaping. "Tell me you aren't serious."

He just shrugs in response as he manages to sit up, leaning against the headboard.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have _weed_ — I have your antibiotic. And some aspirin. Your fever spiked a bit today."

I hand Edward the pills and then the glass of water. "Do you think you could eat? I can make you some toast."

He nods as he swallows a big gulp of water.

"Ok, toast first, then a sponge bath."

"My favorite part of the day," he replies with a smirk. I try not to smile as I walk out of the room.

I pull out the loaf of bread I bought yesterday and put a slice in the toaster for Edward. If he can handle one piece, I'll make another later. When it pops, I spread a little bit of jam on it and return to my "patient."

"Not for you, Leo," I warn as the furball follows me into the bedroom.

"Hope you like strawberry jam… it's all I had."

"It's fine," he says quietly as I hand him the plate. He looks up at me curiously. "Not gonna feed me this time?"

"I think you can handle eating a piece of toast. I'll feed you some soup later. Will you be ok by yourself while I go start a load of laundry?"

"I'll be fine," he promises.

Once I load the sweat-drenched sheets into the washer, I wheel my computer chair into the bedroom to retrieve Edward. He still needs help getting off the bed and into the chair. I leave him alone to use the bathroom while I rinse off the breakfast dishes.

"Ready for my sponge bath, Nurse," he calls from the doorway. Rolling my eyes, I go to help him.

"This is the last time, you know. By tomorrow you should be able to take a shower. There's a small seat in there, so you don't have to stand."

"You can always help me with the shower, you know," he hints.

"I think you'll be able to manage," I reply as I gently begin wiping the sweat from his face and neck. "You're getting kind of scruffy. I didn't think to get you a razor, but maybe you could try to use mine."

"I'm not using a _girl's_ razor to shave."

"Suit yourself," I reply with a shrug. He actually looks good with a few days' growth of beard.

"Thanks for this, Bella. I'm not used to having someone take care of me," he says quietly as I move on to his torso.

"What about your mom?"

"Hmmm?"

"When you were first waking up, you thought I was your mom," I remind him.

"I did? Well, it's been a long time since I lived at home."

"You're only 24, right?"

"How do you know that?" he asks, eyes narrowed.

"Um, from the newspaper — an article about your escape. You know, as soon as you're feeling up to it, you and I are going to have to talk about what exactly you were convicted of."

"What difference does it make? I told you I didn't do it."

"Edward — maybe… maybe I can help you. Somehow. I don't know."

After a long sigh, he finally nods. "Tomorrow, ok?"

"Deal," I agree. "You're all done, ready to go back to bed?"

"Do you think you could try to wash my hair?" he asks, running his hand through it. It _does_ look pretty greasy.

"Yeah, all right, I'll try to wash it in the sink," I reply as I push the chair over to the front of the white pedestal sink. "Lean back."

I wet Edward's hair, then reach into the shower for my bottle of shampoo. As I lather up his hair, Edward wrinkles his nose. "Is that strawberries?"

"Sorry, you'll have to make do with my shampoo."

"I'm gonna smell like a girl," he whines.

"Well, I'm the only one who's gonna smell you."

Once his hair is rinsed, I wrap it in a towel and help him to sit up. "I'll change your bandage when you're lying down, ok?"

I towel dry his hair a bit more before wheeling him back into the bedroom and helping him into bed.

"Does it look better?" he asks quietly as I remove the bandage.

"Yeah, it does. It's not all red and puffy. I think the antibiotics are helping." I clean the wound gently, then apply more ointment and a fresh bandage.

I am just finishing up when my cell phone rings out in the living room.

"Do you need to get that?"

"Nah, if it's important, they'll leave a message."

I laugh as Leo jumps up on the bed to keep Edward company. "He likes you," I tell him. "He usually doesn't like anyone but me. I hope you're not allergic?"

"No, I'm not. He's fine. Leo, you said?"

"Yeah, because he looked like a lion cub when I got him," I explain. "Try to get more sleep, all right? I'll bring soup and toast for lunch in a few hours."

I am washing my hands when I hear a ding from my computer. I touch the mouse and the screen comes back to life. My dad, trying to Skype me. I take a quick look for anything "suspicious" that might be in view of the webcam before accepting the call.

"Hey, Dad."

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" my father's frowning face replies.

"I was tied up in the laundry room," I lie. "What's up? I just talked to you a couple days ago."

"I talked to a buddy of mine from the Aberdeen police department this morning, and he told me there's an escaped killer on the loose near you."

_Please let my face remain blank._

"I, uh, I heard about that from Mrs. Cope yesterday."

"Do you still have that pepper spray? Are all of your windows locked?"

"Yes, Dad, they always are. I promise."

"If you need to go out, call Mrs. Cope — don't walk to town."

"Dad — I'm a grown woman; I know how to protect myself." Shit, I'm getting too defensive.

"I know you are, Bells," he sighs, "But he said this guy is dangerous. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Dad," I reply, tears coming to my eyes hearing the worry in his voice. "He—he's probably long gone from the area anyway."

"Probably," he allows. "I just wanted to make sure you were being careful."

"Always."

"You know, I'm off until the night shift. I could come down and take you out to the diner for lunch."

"No! I—I mean, I think I'm coming down with a cold, and I don't want you to get sick. Besides, you should get some rest before your night shift, not spend four hours on the road today."

"Hmm… you do look a little pale. You're taking care of yourself, right? Getting enough sleep?"

"Actually, I haven't slept well the last two nights. I'm probably gonna take a nap this afternoon though."

"Maybe I can come down and see you next weekend?" he asks hopefully.

"Yeah, maybe. I'll let you know, all right?"

"Sounds good. Talk to you later."

"Bye, Dad," I reply, signing off.

Once I'm sure the connection is closed, I take a deep breath and bury my head in my hands. It seems like he bought it. I hate lying to him, but the last thing I need is my dad showing up here unexpectedly.

I quickly browse the local newspaper's website for any more information on Edward or the search for him until I hear the cycle finish on the washer. After moving the sheets to the dryer, I start a load of towels in the washer and then come back to the PC. I've been neglecting the blog since Edward's arrival.

When I first came to Lake Aberdeen, I didn't really have any plans for what I was going to do all day. I quickly got bored with web surfing and bought myself a Kindle, downloading hundreds of books since my arrival.

But I needed to do something constructive. A website dedicated to understanding our animal friends was looking for a blogger to help out with health and behavior-related questions. I applied and was offered the position that same day. I spend a few hours of time each week answering questions from pet owners who frequent the blog. I don't get paid, but it keeps me active in my profession for when I go back to it.

If I go back to it.

By noon, I'm starving, so I heat up some soup for myself and Edward. I make him another piece of toast and then carry his lunch into the bedroom.

Edward — and Leo — is sleeping, seemingly more peaceful than he has been, given that the sheets aren't half on the floor again. He looks so angelic in his sleep that I'm almost afraid to wake him, but he really needs to eat to keep his strength up.

"Edward," I call, shaking his shoulder after I set the tray of food down. "I brought lunch," I add when I see his eyes open.

I help him to sit up then hand him the plate with the piece of toast. "I brought more soup, too."

"Thank you," he replies quietly. And that right there is why I don't believe Edward killed anyone — there is a polite young man in there somewhere. "Did you already eat?"

I nod. "Yeah, I did. I figured it was easier, yeah?"

"I could get used to being spoonfed," he smirks before taking a bite of his toast.

"Well, don't get used to it. Hopefully by tomorrow you'll be able to get out of bed and move around a bit — and have your meals at the table."

The bowl of soup is nearly empty when Edward breaks the silence. "You were talking to your dad earlier."

"What?"

"I heard you say 'Dad' but I didn't get a lot of the conversation," he explains. "You said your dad is a cop, right?"

"Yeah, he is, and he talked to a friend of his on the police force here this morning and learned about your escape. He's worried about me being alone here."

Edward chuckles. "If he only knew, eh? What would he do if he found out you were harboring an escaped convict?"

"Probably have my head examined," I reply wryly.

Edward looks at me curiously. "Why did you decide to help me? You had every opportunity to turn me in when the police showed up. I couldn't have done anything about it."

"Because I believed you — I believed you were innocent."

"I don't think I'm _innocent_," he snorts. "But I'm not guilty."

"Whatever," I reply, rolling my eyes. "You looked so scared when the police knocked. In that instant, I held your life in my hands. And I couldn't be the reason why you lost it. I couldn't… have that on my conscience." Not again.

"Bella," he begins, taking hold of my hand, "I'll pay you back for this somehow. I don't necessarily mean with money, I—I mean, I'll make it up to you. What comes around goes around, and all that. It's good karma for you to help me."

Immediately, I shake my hand loose from Edward's, standing up so quickly that I nearly knock the tray off the nightstand.

"What?" he asks. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Are you finished?"

"Yeah," he replies cautiously. "What's wrong, Bella?"

"Try to rest some more," I direct, picking up the tray, "Or I'll bring you something to read if you're not tired."

"Bella, wait," he calls as I scurry out of the room.

Karma, indeed.

With shaking hands, I wash off the dishes and put them away. I need to get out of here. It's a bit warmer today — I don't need the fireplace — so I decide to take a walk. Grabbing my shoes and jacket, I'm out the door within minutes.

There is a worn path circling Lake Aberdeen. During the summer, I'll often bring my iPod and earbuds and spend hours walking around the lake. It's so beautiful, so peaceful. Most of the time, I don't run into anyone else except for a lone fisherman. They'll tip their hat to me and leave me be — just the way I like it.

I must walk for hours before I feel guilty for leaving Edward on his own and decide to go back inside. I listen for any sounds from the bedroom after closing and locking the front door, but all is quiet. I'm not going to check on him again. Instead, I sit down at my computer and answer a few more questions for the animal blog.

I've also got a new e-mail from my friend Alice, asking about coming down to see me tomorrow for my birthday. I've been such an awful friend to her lately, but she has never given up on me. I feel bad that I have to decline, but for obvious reasons, I can't have guests right now. It's not that I don't want to see my friend. I give Alice the same lie that I gave Charlie about coming down with something, promising that we can get together in a few weeks.

After two poor nights of sleep, I'm exhausted, so when I'm through online, I decide to lie down on the couch for a bit and take a nap. I will not check on Edward.

I toss and turn on the couch for an hour, remembering the couple hours of sleep I got yesterday afternoon on my bed. I can't do that again; I don't want Edward to get any wrong ideas here. I'm helping him because he needs help — nothing more.

Damn it, I am so tired but I just can't make myself comfortable. With a sigh, I sit up and stretch, disturbing Leo, who was curled up in a ball by my feet.

I decide to check on Edward.

I tiptoe into the bedroom, in case he's asleep, but find him lying there staring up at the ceiling. He turns his head toward me when I walk into the room.

"You were gone."

"Um, yeah, I went for a walk."

"You look tired."

I nod. "I tried to take a nap, but I just couldn't get comfortable."

"You can take a nap in here."

"No, I can't," I state definitively.

"You did yesterday. I didn't bother you."

I close my eyes, leaning against the doorframe. God, I really want to.

"You've been taking care of me for the last two days, Bella. It's time to worry about yourself."

Slowly, I step into the room. It's like I'm drawn to him by some sort of magnetic force.

"Look, I'll even scoot over so you have plenty of room."

"Thank you," I reply with a small smile as I join him, lying on top of the covers. "Just for a little while, then I need to go make dinner."

Turning to face the edge of the bed, I'm asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. I dream of being held in strong arms, feeling safe and loved for the first time in a very long time.

I wake up and look down… and see a tattooed arm lying across my stomach.

"Jesus," I yell, scrambling off the bed. "I thought you weren't going to bother me!"

"I never said that; I said I didn't bother you yesterday," he smirks. Laughing at my angry glare, he continues, "I didn't touch you on purpose, I swear. I must've done it in my sleep."

"I wouldn't have taken you for a cuddler."

"I'm not — trust me."

Sighing, I walk toward the doorway. "Soup for dinner, or can you handle some fish?" I call over my shoulder.

"Just soup, I think."

Nodding, I quickly leave the room and head back to the kitchen. The last time he visited, my dad brought me some of his friend Harry Clearwater's famous fish fry, so I decide to fry the trout I bought yesterday. While it's cooking, I put some canned food into Leo's bowl.

I make myself a small salad to go with the fish and eat at the table by myself — well, mostly by myself. Leo has planted himself on the table as well, hoping I'll feed him a piece of my fish. He looks so pathetic that I feed him a small piece before standing up to rinse my dishes and then heat up a bowl of soup for Edward.

Ugh, Edward. I'm still pissed off at him for touching me earlier. Just for a moment, I thought the last three years hadn't happened and I was back in my king-sized bed in my perfect suburban home, living my perfect life.

He looks up at me as I carry the tray into the room. "I'm sorry," he says quietly.

I don't acknowledge him, setting the tray down and handing him a glass of water and two pills. After he swallows them, I sit on the edge of the bed, get a spoonful of soup and hold it up to his mouth.

I feed Edward in silence, not even looking him in the eye. He doesn't try to speak either — I think he can tell how angry I still am. It's irrational, I know, especially if he wasn't lying when he said that he'd put his arm around me in his sleep.

When the bowl is empty, I stand and reach for the tray when I feel Edward's hand curl around my wrist. "Bella—"

"Get your hand off of me," I reply through clenched teeth.

"Just — listen to me." I continue to glare at him until he drops my wrist. "I'm sorry. Really. I didn't touch you on purpose. I was asleep. I don't get why you're so angry."

"Apology accepted," I whisper before hurrying out of the room. I'm not about to explain myself to him.

Once the dishes are washed and put away, I sit on the couch, grabbing the remote control. Even with my satellite, I can't really find anything exciting to watch on a Saturday night, finally settling on a movie.

After a couple of hours, I hear a noise, looking up to see Edward standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing only his boxers. Holding onto the wall for support, he's able to make it into the bathroom. Oh. I hadn't remembered to help him up earlier.

A few minutes later, the door opens and he slowly makes his way to the couch, sitting heavily beside me.

"I'll sleep out here tonight; you can have the bed so you can get some sleep."

"No, that—that's fine. You're still not 100%. I'll suffer for one more night."

"Am I really forgiven?" he asks almost shyly, looking up at me through mesmerizing green eyes.

"Yeah," I reply with a small smile. "It's my issue — not yours." I clear my throat. "Are you gonna sit here and watch TV or do you want me to help you back to bed?"

"I'm sick of lying in bed."

"Let me give you the blanket then; you must be freezing." And I don't want to stare at his colorful, naked chest.

"Thanks," he whispers as I drape a blanket around his shoulders. "What are we watching?"

"Just a movie," I shrug. "Did you want to watch something else?"

"This is fine," he answers as Leo appears from nowhere, jumping up on the couch to sit between us. I watch as Edward reaches out to pet him. After a few minutes, Leo crawls into his lap. I have never before seen my cat react so well to a virtual stranger. He must feel the same thing that I do, that Edward isn't a bad person underneath that bad boy persona.

A couple of hours later, the second movie ends. Both Edward and Leo are asleep, Edward's head leaning on the back of the couch. Just as before, he looks so innocent in his sleep. I almost hate to wake him, but I know he'll be stiff if I let him sleep like that much longer.

"Edward," I whisper, touching his scruffy face gently. His eyes blink open and he stares up at me. "Time to go back to bed, yeah?" At his nod, I stand and hold my hand out to him. Grasping my hand for support, Edward pulls himself to his feet and I lead him into the bedroom.

"I'll see you in the morning," I tell him quietly.

"Goodnight, Bella."

* * *

**A/N: **Yay, Edward is able to get out of bed by himself, so he should be back to his usual cheeky self soon. And he's promised to tell Bella his version of events.

For those who haven't read "Instant Karma," any thoughts on Bella's two freakouts in this chapter? Would _you_ be able to resist a half-naked Edward?


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

One more to reach 100 Favorites, woot! Thanks to all for your support. :)

Now let's hear Edward's side of the story.

* * *

_Sunday, September 16, 2012_

_Ugh, thank God I am kicking Edward out of my bed today_, I think as I force my stiff body off the couch.

I move slowly into the bedroom, grabbing some panties and jeans from the dresser, then poke through my closet for a shirt. I briefly glance toward the bed, but Edward appears to still be asleep.

After my shower, I head to the kitchen and fix a bowl of canned food for my impatient cat. I'm tired of the same-old/same-old for breakfast and wonder what else I can make. Digging through my makeshift pantry, I spot a box of Bisquick. That's it — pancakes! Every recipe I've ever seen for pancakes makes at least a dozen, which is far more than I can eat, so I hardly ever make them. But with Edward here, we might be able to at least make a large dent in the batch.

I'm gathering the rest of the ingredients when I hear the shower turn on in the bathroom. I guess Edward is feeling better this morning if he got up by himself and felt ready to take a shower. I'm sure as hell not going to help him with that.

Just as I flip the first four pancakes on the griddle, I hear the bathroom door opening.

"What are you making?" Edward's voice calls from behind me.

"Pancakes. Have a seat — they'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"How are you feeling this morning?" I ask, glancing at him over my shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. Startled by his appearance, I turn around fully and stare.

He's wearing clothes. A black t-shirt that I haven't seen in three years and a pair of jeans so long that they're rolled up at the bottom. They're hanging so low on his hips that they're practically obscene, the waistband of navy boxer briefs peeking out of the top.

"Where the fuck did you get those?"

"What?" he asks, glancing at me.

"Where did you get the clothes?" I clarify.

"In the drawer," he answers with a shrug.

"You were digging through my dresser?" I ask angrily.

"No! Well, yeah, sort of. I saw the men's shirts hanging in the closet when you were in there this morning, so I figured there had to be more somewhere."

"Take them off!" I yell.

"What?"

"I said, take them off! Those are my husband's clothes — you can't be wearing them!"

"What's the big deal? He's obviously not here to see me in them."

"Now, Edward! Take them off," I scream, seconds away from losing it.

"All right, all right," he huffs, pulling the t-shirt over his head. As I glare at him, he opens the button fly on the too-large jeans and begins pulling them down, carefully folding them over the back of one of the kitchen chairs with the t-shirt once they're off. Smirking at me, he grasps the waistband of my husband's underwear and begins pushing those down, too.

"Oh Jesus," I yelp, turning around before I get an eyeful.

"I assume you wanted these, too," he says, stepping close enough behind me that he can dangle the pair of boxer briefs over my shoulder. With an angry sigh, I snatch them out of his hand, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. I breath in and out deeply, trying to keep myself from reliving the image of Edward in my husband's clothes.

"On the chair," I manage to say between breaths.

"What?"

"The clothes I got you. They're still in a bag, on the chair in the living room."

A couple of minutes later, I hear Edward's footsteps behind me. "You can turn around now," he says. "I'm not naked anymore."

Slowly, I turn around and face him. He's wearing the lounge pants I purchased, trying to rip the tag off one of the t-shirts. And he's looking at me like I'm totally insane.

"Are you all right?" he asks quietly.

"I'm fine."

Edward tilts his head to the side, as if he's examining me. Suddenly, he wrinkles his nose. "Is something burning?"

"Oh shit," I yelp, turning toward the stove. "My pancakes." I quickly take the griddle off the heat and attempt to scrape the burned mess into the sink. After I've got most of it, I run the griddle under the water, listening to the hiss as the water touches the hot surface.

When it's clean, I place the griddle back on the stove and wait for it to heat up enough to pour more batter on it.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I didn't mean to make you ruin breakfast."

"Bella." I jump when I feel his hand on my shoulder. "You're shaking. Why don't you sit down and let me finish these?"

"You know how to make pancakes?" I ask skeptically.

"Yeah," he replies, sounding almost affronted. "I'm not totally helpless."

I'm shaking so hard that I can barely stand, so I nod and pull out one of the chairs. Leaning my elbows on the table, I hold my head in my hands, still trying to control my breathing.

"Where is your husband?" he asks.

"None of your business."

"I don't see what the big deal was about—"

"Drop it!"

"Someone got up on the wrong side of bed this morning," he snarks.

"Here you go," he says quietly a few minutes later. I look up to see a now fully-clothed Edward sliding two of the pancakes onto the plate in front of me. I'd already gotten the butter and syrup out, so I quickly prepare the short stack just the way I like it and start to eat.

I watch as Edward pours more batter onto the griddle before he sits down and begins fixing his own breakfast. He really does know how to cook, I note, watching the glances he takes toward the stove before he finally stands up to flip the new batch.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" I ask curiously.

He shrugs in response. "I started cooking most of my own meals when I was about five."

"Five?" I ask in shock. "Was your mother a terrible cook like mine?"

"Drop it, to quote your answer to me."

"Fair enough," I whisper, watching as he stands to grab the griddle, sliding two more pancakes onto my plate and then his own.

We finish eating in silence. When he's finished, he gets up, rinsing his plate off in the sink. "Are you done?" he asks, reaching for mine.

"Yeah, but you don't have to wash these. You probably shouldn't be up and around so much yet. Go sit somewhere and I'll take care of the dishes. Oh, and the bottle with your antibiotic is by the PC."

Nodding, he steps out of the kitchen, sitting down at the computer. "What's the name of your local newspaper?" he calls.

"It's called _The Daily World_," I reply. "Looking for what they're saying about you?"

"Yep," he nods.

I finish the dishes then pick up Jacob's clothes, carrying them back into the bedroom to put them away. Kneeling, I open the bottom drawer and brush my hand along the piles of clothing. I know it's ridiculous to still hang on to all of these, but I just can't bring myself to get rid of them. I know he's not coming back, but getting rid of his clothes just makes it so final.

After stripping the bed, I carry the sheets into the laundry room. I peek into the bathroom and find Edward's old boxers lying haphazardly on the floor. _Just like a man_, I think with a sigh. I gingerly pick them up by one corner and add them to the washer with the sheets.

Hearing Edward's laugh, I step back into the living room to see the chair pushed back from the desk while he smirks at something. Walking closer, I see a ball of orange fur sitting on top of the keyboard.

"Sorry," I say, picking up my wayward cat, who whines in protest. "Just shoo him away if he bothers you."

"So you know what I was arrested for," he says quietly.

"Yeah."

"I didn't do it. I've never hurt anyone."

I raise an eyebrow and he laughs. "Ok, I may have gotten into a bar fight or two, but I've never hurt an innocent person."

"Ok."

"On that note — where's my gun?"

"_Your_ gun?"

"You know what I mean."

"I put it away for now. If you're not going to hurt me, you don't need it."

"Fine," he sighs. "But I'll need it back when I leave."

I nod. "Are you ready to tell me about the case now?"

"Not really, but… yeah." He stands up slowly and walks toward the couch. I let my squirming cat down and follow, taking a seat on the far end from him.

"I guess you already know the basics," he begins, running his hand through his already-messy hair.

"Yeah, Reverend's wife, robbery gone wrong," I repeat.

"Yeah," he nods. "I don't know much more of the circumstances than what the article said."

"If you're innocent—"

"I _am_ innocent."

"If you're innocent, how did the police come to suspect you in the first place?" I ask.

Sighing, he closes his eyes. "They found my fingerprints in the house," he replies quietly.

"You were in the house?" When he nods in response, I continue, "To rob them?"

"What? No!"

"So why were you there?"

"To fuck their daughter," he replies with a shrug.

My eyes widen and I stare at Edward. The article said the body was found by her husband and _teenage_ daughter.

"You had sex with a teenager?" I ask. Just the thought of Edward with… I shudder, totally disgusted.

"I didn't know she was a teenager!"

"Just… how old was she, exactly?"

"Seventeen," he answers sheepishly.

I wrinkle my nose. "All right," I sigh, "From the beginning, please."

"I met Angela about three weeks before everything went down — at a bar. She was dressed to kill —tight low-cut top, short skirt, fishnet stockings, sky high heels. She told me she was 21 and she looked it. I fucked her in the alley behind the bar that night. She was hot, I gave her my number when she asked for it. She called me a couple times to come over when her folks were out."

I try desperately to keep the mental image out of my head. "You didn't realize when you went to her parents' house that she was underage?"

"Lots of kids live at home while they're in college. I didn't think anything of it."

"Ok, so the police found your fingerprints in the house and contacted you." He nods. "I assume you told them why you were really there."

"Of course I did. But the bitch lied and said she'd never met me."

"Angela didn't corroborate your story? Why not?"

"Best I could figure, she had them all fooled into thinking she was some sweet, innocent virgin. You should've seen her testifying in court," he says angrily. "She had everything but fucking pigtails to make her look young and innocent while she lied through her teeth about knowing me. The bitch was kinky, she was so far from fucking innocent…"

"Um… ok." For some reason, I'm irritated by the way Edward talks about this girl. "So the police believed Angela over you?"

"Sure. Like I said, she had everyone fooled and I have a record."

My heart skips a beat. "You have prior convictions?"

"One, _one_ prior conviction."

"For?" I ask when he doesn't elaborate.

"I held up a liquor store when I was 19. And got caught."

"Did you serve time?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah," he nods, "Three years."

Fuck, Edward was in prison for three years? I stare at my hands in my lap, not really sure where to go from here.

"What, are you scared of me now?"

"What? No, no, I'm just… processing it. All right, so… there must be something more. Were they any other fingerprints found in the house?"

"Just mine," he replies, shaking his head. "Well, except for family."

"Didn't the police suspect the family at all? It's usually the husband, right?"

"The good reverend and Angela had airtight alibis," he explains. "Apparently, after his sermon they went out for lunch with a few members of his congregation. Several witnesses said they didn't leave the restaurant until around 2pm. The medical examiner determined she'd been dead for several hours, so it was impossible for either of them to have done it."

"I'm guessing you had no alibi?"

"Well, I had one — I was sleeping it off in my bed."

"Alone?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

"Eventually," he smirks.

"Huh?"

"Of course I wasn't alone — it was Saturday night. But she had to leave at like 6am to go to work."

"On a Sunday morning?"

"She worked at Starbucks."

"Oh," I reply frowning. I begin to realize that my disgust and irritation at Edward's manwhore ways might actually be… jealousy? No, I can't be _jealous_. "Did you have a job?"

"Yeah, but I didn't have to go in to work until 3:30."

"So no one can confirm where you were between 6am and 3:30pm?"

"Pretty much," he sighs.

"That's still not enough to convict anyone! The real killer probably wore gloves and didn't leave any fingerprints."

"Probably. But I was the only suspect they ever had."

"Surely they had more evidence than that?" I ask.

"There can't be more evidence, since I didn't do it!"

"Well, circumstantial evidence then, you know what I mean."

Edward runs his hand through his hair angrily. "There were the bullets," he finally says.

"Bullets?"

"They searched my place and found bullets for a 9mm. That's the type of gun Mrs. Weber was shot with," he adds.

"So you have a 9mm gun."

"No. I did, but I'd gotten rid of it after… well, after I held up the liquor store. Forgot about the bullets though."

I try to piece it all together in my head. The police figured out Edward at one time had owned the type of gun that killed Mrs. Weber, but they didn't find the gun, only the bullets.

"That's not enough to convict someone!" I cry.

"Maybe not you."

"Me?" What on earth is _that_ supposed to mean?

"A good girl. Fuck, you almost look as innocent as Angela did that day in court."

"I'm not innocent." If he only knew the things I'd done.

"Whatever," he replies, rolling his eyes. "The prosecutor managed to convince the judge to allow testimony about my prior conviction, claiming it showed a pattern of behavior. Add to that my not-so-innocent appearance and a jury of my peers convicted me on circumstantial evidence."

"That's… that's…"

"Bullshit," he finishes, nodding. "I know. My lawyer immediately launched an appeal, on the grounds that disclosing my prior conviction was prejudicial, but it was denied. Now he's working on getting me a new trial. In the meantime, I'm sent off to the state pen for 25 years to life."

"You survived three years behind bars before, surely you could've lasted a few months? I mean, why try to escape?"

"I saw an opportunity and I took it," he shrugs. "That's the way I've always been."

My head is spinning from all of the information. We sit in silence for a few minutes before Edward speaks again. "Do you believe me, Bella?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I believe you. Did your parents believe you?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "They'd totally believe I'd rob the place, but not that I'd kill someone. I was on probation though, so I was really trying to do most things by the book since I got out of prison."

"Most things?" I ask with a smile.

He shrugs. "Weed is still illegal in Washington, as are other things I may have sampled. I make no apologies for who I am. I'm out for a good time. End of."

"Why did you hold up the liquor store?" I ask curiously.

"Story for another day," he smirks, standing and stretching. His shirt rides up as he stretches and I notice for the first time that he doesn't have a bandage over the wound on his stomach.

"You took the bandage off?"

"Oh. Yeah, it came off in the shower."

"I should replace it," I state, standing. "Sit, I'll go get the antibiotic ointment and a new bandage."

When I come back, he's grabbed the remote control, turning the TV to a football game. "Is this all right?"

It's not all right. It reminds me too much of Sundays during my marriage, but instead of telling him that, I give him a small nod.

"Lie down for a minute," I direct, kneeling on the floor. I quickly spread the ointment and replace the bandage. "All done. Um, I'll just be at the computer."

After moving the sheets to the dryer and putting another fresh set on my bed, I lose myself surfing online for a couple of hours until Edward startles me. "I'm starving, what's for lunch before the Seahawks start?"

"Um, I usually just make a sandwich. And I have some soup left."

Nodding, he steps into the kitchen. A few minutes later he calls out that lunch is ready.

"What did you make?" I ask curiously.

"Soup and sandwiches, just what you said," he shrugs.

"Do you have a job?" he asks as we eat. "I know you said you're a vet, but you didn't go to work on Friday. And since you don't drive…"

"No, I don't," I reply quietly. "I mean, I answer questions on an animal blog, but I don't get paid for it."

"How do you live?"

"I have money," I answer quickly, trying not to think about how I obtained it.

"You're awfully young to be retired."

"I'm not retired, I'm just… taking a break."

"Why don't you drive?"

When I don't answer, he asks, "Does that piece of shit run?"

"What?"

"That old truck. I saw it out back through the window in the bedroom."

"Oh. Yeah, it does." My dad insists on starting it up and driving it whenever he comes to visit me, so that I'll have transportation, should I ever need it.

"Could we take it out?"

"For what?"

"I need to get a few more things."

"Like what? I thought you said you'd leave if I removed the handcuffs and got you clothes?"

"How am I supposed to leave? My picture is all over the news, so I can't exactly hitchhike. And if you won't drive, you can't drop me off somewhere."

"So you want to stay _here_?" I ask incredulously.

"Well, not forever… just until I can figure something else out. In the meantime, it'd be nice to get my own soap and shampoo, so I don't smell like a woman. And a razor," he adds, rubbing the scruff on his chin.

I stare at Edward in disbelief. He can't really expect to just stay here indefinitely, hiding with me.

But he's right — he'd be caught within hours, minutes maybe, if he tried to find a ride out of town with someone else. He can't even contact someone he knows for help; surely the police are watching anyone close to him. Even if he could get out of town, what's he going to do for money? I've already risked so much for him, and it would all be for nothing if he tries to leave and this ends… badly.

"All right," I agree with a sigh. "We can go out tomorrow, maybe. I want to make sure you're close to 100% first."

Standing, he gazes at me for a moment. "You don't mind doing the dishes?" When I shake my head, he smiles. "Ok, gonna go watch the football game. It's the Seahawks' home opener."

I finish up the dishes and decide to join Edward on the couch. He smiles at me as I sit down. Leo is already asleep in his lap.

Watching the game, it's all I can do to keep my mind focused on the present, and not on days gone by where I sat cuddled with Jacob on the couch while he watched football. I never particularly liked the sport, but we were together long enough that I eventually learned to understand what was going on.

Edward whoops and hollers when the Seahawks win the game. I just stare at him. I don't understand how he can have a second-degree murder conviction hanging over his head and seemingly forget about it.

"What?" he asks, noticing my stare.

"I don't get you," I reply. "Shouldn't you be freaking out about getting caught?"

"What good is that going to do? I intend to enjoy every minute of my freedom. Worrying about things you can't change is a waste of time."

"A waste of time…" I repeat quietly. If he only knew what I've spent the last two and a half years of my life doing.

"Another game?" I ask when he changes the channel.

"Yeah, Sunday night football. This is the pregame show though." Looking at me curiously, he continues, "We can watch something else if you want."

"No, you're fine. I need to get up and start on dinner anyway. I was thinking of making lasagna, is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I like lasagna."

"All right — it should be ready in about 90 minutes," I tell him as I head to the kitchen. Once I've got the lasagna assembled and in the oven, I sit at my PC again, answering an e-mail from my mom and one from Alice asking how I'm feeling. Once again, I feel bad for lying to her about coming down with something.

When the oven timer goes off, I get the lasagna out of the oven and let it sit for a few minutes. "What would you like to drink, Edward?" I call. "And I don't have beer."

"Whatever you're having," he replies. "That's something else we'll have to get tomorrow." Rolling my eyes, I pour a couple glasses of pop then call him into the kitchen.

"This is good," he mumbles with his mouth full. "And I'm pretty picky about my Italian food."

"I told you my mom is a horrible cook, so I learned to cook growing up with her."

"In Forks?"

"Mmm?"

"You said your dad is Chief of Police in Forks, right?"

"Yeah, he is. I was born in Forks, but my parents divorced when I was a baby, and I grew up with my mom in Phoenix. When she got remarried and moved to Jacksonville, I came to Forks to live with my dad. I was a junior in high school.

"He couldn't cook either," I laugh. "Until I showed up, he ate all his meals at the diner."

Edward smiles at me as he takes another bite.

"What about you?" I ask. "Where did you grow up?"

"Seattle."

When he doesn't elaborate, I decide it must be a bit of a sore subject and don't ask for more details. I have enough secrets of my own.

Once we're finished, I wrap up the leftover lasagna and stick it in the fridge. Edward helps me with the dishes before we head back to the living room. I sit petting Leo while we watch the evening football game.

"Is there anything you want to watch?" he asks when it's over, handing me the remote. I flip channels until I find something interesting and we watch TV together for a few hours. When I see Edward yawn, I decide to get off of his new bed and let him get some sleep.

Handing him the blankets and pillow from on top of the chair, I wish him goodnight and get ready for bed. My own bed never felt so good.

* * *

**A/N: **So now we know Edward's side of the story! What do you think? Do you believe him? If so, who do you think is the real killer? Is Edward right that he has no choice but to stay with Bella?

Kudos to reader **jansails**, who was the only reviewer to ask the right question in her review to Chapter 2 — " How old exactly is the teenage daughter & did she know Edward?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Welcome to all new readers! So, seems you guys aren't fans of Angela. :)

Since one review asked and it's not mentioned in the story as of now (didn't fit in anywhere), I'll say that Mrs. Weber's body was found in the kitchen, still wearing her coat, leading to the theory that she arrived home and surprised someone who had broken in to rob them. Yes, items are missing from the home.

* * *

_Monday, September 17, 2012_

I open my eyes when I feel something wet on my face.

"Ugh, Leo," I exclaim, pushing him away. "There's no food in your bowl, so you thought you'd come lick _me_?" A quick glance at the clock tells me it's nearly 11am — no wonder he's hungry.

I climb out of bed and stretch. Wow, I really needed a good night's sleep.

With Leo trailing close behind, I make my way out of the bedroom.

"Oh," I yelp in shock, startled to see Edward seated at the computer.

"Good morning," he says, turning to face me with a small smile.

Leo's loud meow alerts me that he still needs breakfast. I quickly move into the kitchen, adding some food to Leo's bowl before walking back to the living room.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest once I realize I'm just in a thin pajama top.

"Yeah, the couch is fine. Better than a cot in prison — trust me."

"What are you reading?"

"The Seattle paper. I'm a masochist for wanting to know what they're writing about me. I was kinda famous back in Seattle — or infamous."

"I can imagine," I reply quietly. "Um, I'm just gonna go shower and get dressed. Did you have breakfast?"

"Yeah, I scrambled a couple eggs. I'm good."

I quickly retrieve some clothes from the bedroom, locking the bathroom door behind me. I shower and wash my hair, then get myself ready for the day.

"Are we still going out?" Edward asks once I step out of the bathroom.

"I—I guess. If you think it's safe."

"I need the gun back if we're going out."

I stare at him for a moment, realizing he's not kidding around, before going into my bedroom to retrieve the gun from its hiding place, picking it up with my sleeve again.

"Thanks," he says as he takes it from me, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. I definitely picked the right size, as they fit Edward like a glove. _Stop noticing how his jeans fit, Bella._

"Hang on a second." I head into the mudroom and dig through my father's box of fishing gear until I find his fishing hat. "Put this on," I tell Edward. "Your hair is kind of conspicuous, and the windows in the truck aren't tinted."

I grab my jacket, purse and the keys to the Chevy then follow Edward out the front door, locking up behind us.

"What year is this thing anyway?" he asks as we near the car.

"Not sure — 1950-something. It was my granddad's. He lived nearby in Hoquiam, and this used to be his vacation house."

I hand Edward the keys and he unlocks the door, climbing into the driver's seat, then reaches all the way across to unlock the passenger side door for me.

"You sure this runs?" he asks after I climb in.

"It did last month," I shrug.

Edward looks at me skeptically as he puts the key in the ignition and starts it up. After shifting to Reverse, he slowly backs up.

"I'll bet this thing can't go over 45," he snorts.

"Doesn't really matter on the roads around here."

"Turn right here," I tell him when we reach the Olympic Highway. After a couple of miles, we arrive at the edge of town. "That's the Walmart," I say, pointing to the left. "But we're not going there. I don't want anyone to recognize me out with a stranger. Go a few more blocks and turn left on the 101."

As we cross the bridge to the south shore, I see the sign for State Route 105 and the prison up ahead. "Turn left here, stay with the 101."

"Thank God… I thought for a minute you were having me drive myself to prison."

"No," I laugh. "Keep going another mile or so until we reach Cosmopolis. There's a drug store right on the 101 that should have what you need. I've only been down here twice, so no one should recognize me."

Edward smoothly pulls the truck into the small parking lot of the drug store and shuts off the engine.

"Ok," I begin, "So we need a man's soap and shampoo. And a razor."

"And deodorant, unless you want me to keep using yours."

"Oh gross." I wrinkle my nose. Like I want hairy armpits touching my deodorant.

"Is it too much to ask for a long-sleeved shirt of some kind? Maybe a jacket? Do they sell anything like that?"

"I don't know; I'll check. Sorry I didn't think of that when I was at Walmart last Friday. Anything else?"

"Cigarettes and beer."

"I am _not_ buying you cigarettes."

"Bella," he whines.

"No. I'll… I'll get you beer. Any particular kind?"

"Sam Adams? Anything but a light beer. Get a few of the six pack of bottles."

"I'm _really_ uncomfortable with this, Edward. I might have to show my ID to get the beer."

"You're allowed to buy beer, Bella. It shouldn't be that strange," he insists.

"All right," I sigh. "Hopefully they won't look too closely. I'm going to pay with cash though, so there's no record of my purchases."

"I don't get what the big deal is," he replies. "You have a husband, so why shouldn't you buy things for a man?"

Instead of replying, I open the door, stepping out of the cab. "Duck down or something, so no one sees you."

Walking inside, I spot a stack of small baskets and pick one up. I find the aisle with the toiletries and peruse the shelves looking for products for men. Edward didn't give me any hint of what brands. I start to pick up Jacob's brand of soap, but then stop. It would just be… _creepy_ for Edward to smell like my husband.

"This is ridiculous, Bella," I tell myself, finally just picking up a popular brand of men's body wash and a bottle of shampoo that seems unisex. Once I've got the razor and deodorant, I look around for clothing. I don't see any jackets, but they do have a Seahawks hoodie on clearance.

Even looking at the beers in the refrigerated section causes my breathing to speed up. I will myself to remain calm. It's just beer. It can't hurt anyone. Edward will be drinking it at my house, not out where he needs to drive home.

Once I'm sure I can handle it, I find his requested Sam Adams and add three six packs to the basket, then head to the counter.

"Could I see some ID?" the cashier — who doesn't look 21 himself — asks as he rings up the beer. I show him my driver's license, grateful that he only glances at it.

I hand him the cash, take my change and get the heck out of the store. It's ridiculous that I'm so nervous — I almost feel like I did when I was 14 and a friend dared me to shoplift some lip gloss.

The door is locked when I reach the truck, so I knock on the window. Once it's unlocked, I climb inside.

"Success?" Edward asks.

"Yeah, everything but the jacket. I got you a Seahawks hoodie though — it was on clearance."

"Nice," he laughs. "Do you want to stop at the place across the street for lunch?"

I look to where's he's indicating and see a sign for Maxi Burger. "We can't go in, you know."

"I know; we'll bring it back," he replies. "Just get me the largest burger they have, with everything, and some onion rings."

"Pretty demanding, aren't you?" I joke.

"Bella… I told you before, I'll make this up to you — somehow, some way."

"It's fine," I reply quietly. "I'm mostly kidding."

After Edward drives across the street and parks, I walk inside, ordering our meals to-go. I wait nervously for the burgers to be cooked, then thank the cashier and dart outside.

"Mmmm, that smells good," Edward says once I climb into the truck. "Can I have an onion ring?"

"No," I tell him, batting his hand away from the bag. "Let's just get home before someone sees us."

Once we cross the bridge back to the north side, I look around anxiously for anyone who might recognize either me or my granddad's truck. There are a lot of people in this town who would remember him driving the old Chevy. Of course, with the fishing hat on, Edward could probably pass for my dad, but it still makes me nervous.

"Here's the turn-off," I direct, glad that we're almost home.

"Do you ever walk to town?" Edward asks as he shuts the engine off.

"Sometimes. When it's a nice day and I don't need to buy a lot."

Once we're inside the house, I take the beer out of the bags from the drugstore and toss the bags onto the couch. After I hang up my coat, I join Edward in the kitchen, where he's already busted into the bag of food. I put the beer in the fridge and pour us each a glass of Pepsi, taking a seat at the table.

"What did you get?" he asks, talking with his mouth full again.

"I got a small cheeseburger and fries. I can't eat half a cow like you."

"Hey, I have a few days to make up for," he protests.

I watch as Edward practically inhales his food. It reminds me so much of the way Jacob used to eat — I was always telling him to slow down and stop talking with his mouth full.

"So, why do you live out here in the middle of nowhere?" Edward asks suddenly. "I didn't realize just how far out you are."

I shrug. "This is where my granddad's house is. It passed to my dad, Charlie, after my grandparents died."

"Yeah, but why did you choose to live _here_, and not in Forks, or in Seattle or something?"

"I lived in Seattle for about nine years," I admit. "I just… wanted to take a break for a while."

"I bet there's a lot more to it than that."

"Nothing I'm going to share with you."

"Ouch," he smirks.

Thanks to our fast food meal, the only dishes to wash are our glasses. Edward helps me after throwing away our trash then digs around in the fridge, appearing again with a bottle of beer.

"You're going to drink that _now_? It's not even two o'clock."

"Stop looking at me like that. I'm not an alcoholic — I just like a beer once in a while." But I notice he puts it back. I also notice the gun still sticking out of his waistband.

"Give me the gun back, Edward."

He huffs, but he can obviously tell I'm not kidding, so he reluctantly hands it to me. I quickly take it into the bedroom, back into its hiding place.

"So, we should talk," I begin as I join him in the living room.

"About what?"

"About your case. About how to get you a new trial."

"You don't think I've spent hours discussing it with my lawyer?" he asks.

"Well, sure, but maybe I have a fresh perspective."

Edward looks at me skeptically, but nods his agreement.

"All right, so, I think the key to your appeal is finding some justification for your fingerprints to be in the house. Either convince Angela to change her story, or find someone else who can corroborate that you two were involved."

Edward runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. "You didn't see the way the cops looked at me, Bella. They looked at me like I was something they'd scrape off the bottom of their shoes. Even if we had that, they'd probably just say that I was only involved with Angela so I could scope out her parents' house."

"But it's not the cops who would grant you a new trial, right? Isn't it a judge?"

"I—I guess."

"I just don't think a judge could look past the fact that a key prosecution witness lied on the witness stand. It seems like it would be a no-brainer to grant you a new trial. And I just can't see a jury of twelve men and women believing _without a reasonable doubt_ that you committed that murder if you had been in the house with Angela."

"You make it sound easy," he replies with a small smile.

"Well, I don't think it's _easy_. I mean, we have to prove she lied first, right?"

"Yeah. Of course, we already tried that. My lawyer almost got held in contempt for the way he badgered Angela in cross-examination, trying to get her to admit that she knew me."

"Did any of your friends know you two were dating?"

Edward laughs out loud.

"What's so funny?"

"Dating?" he repeats, laughing again. "I wasn't _dating_ her. We hooked up."

"Is that the term these days?"

"You are such a Pollyanna sometimes."

My eyes narrow, but I persist. "Ok, so, did anyone know you two were… hooking up?"

He shrugs. "My buddy Garrett was at the club the night I met her."

"All right, that's a start," I say encouragingly.

"Not really… he didn't know her name. He was there when I bought her a drink. We danced one dance, then went out back and fucked."

"You… had sex with a girl and you didn't even _know her name_?"

"I knew her name! She told me on the way outside."

My God, am I that old and out of touch? I just… can't fathom something like that. But then I'd started dating Jacob when I was 17, and we continued dating all through college.

"Bella?" he asks when I continue to stare open-mouthed.

"Sorry, sorry. Ok, so Garrett didn't know her name, but he saw her, right? That's something."

"No, it's not," he responds, shaking his head. "Garrett had done a couple lines before we got to the club; I doubt he remembers much of anything from that night."

"A couple lines… of cocaine, you mean?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"Did you… use cocaine too?"

"Not that night. I've always preferred weed, but I've tried pretty much everything… except shooting up. I know that's bad news."

I stare down at my hands, my mind still reeling from everything I'm learning about Edward.

"It wouldn't have mattered, Bella."

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Even if Garrett hadn't been high, he'd never recognize Angela now. I told you she looked totally different when she testified in court. That night at the bar, she had her hair curled, with these pink and green streaks in it, wearing a ton of make-up. In court, her hair was long and straight, plain dark brown, and she wore glasses but no make-up.

"She kinda looked a lot like you," he adds, reaching out and fingering a strand of my hair.

"Like—like me?"

"Yeah, or you look like Angela — whatever," he shrugs, dropping his hand.

"Did she hurt you?" I ask softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she lied, she denied your relationship. It's gotta hurt when your girlfriend perjures herself to say she never met you."

"Angela wasn't my girlfriend, Bella — I told you, we hooked up. I didn't care about her except as a good fuck. You know I was with another woman the night before the break-in."

And my jealousy flares once again.

"Are we done now?" he whines when I don't respond.

"I—I guess, if you're sure Garrett is a dead end. What about your other friends?"

He shakes his head. "The next couple of times I saw Angela were at her parents' house."

"You didn't talk about her with your friends, maybe?"

"I told you — she wasn't my girlfriend. Guys don't usually talk specifics about the girls they're banging."

"Ugh, do you have to be so _crude_?" I shout. "She was a person, not… not just a…"

"Not just a pussy?"

"Oh my God," I screech, jumping up from the couch as Edward's raucous laughter fills the air.

"Bella, calm down," he says, still laughing. "I said that just to get a reaction from you. And you didn't disappoint."

"You just… have no respect for women, do you?"

"Of course I respect women — and men — as long as they deserve it."

I close my eyes, counting to ten before I try to speak again. "So you don't think any of your friends can help?"

"No," he says softly. "It was a nice try."

"What about _her_ friends?" I ask, sitting back down. "Did you know any of them? Could they vouch for you, or convince Angela to tell the truth?"

Edward shakes his head. "No, I never met — Wait! She was with a friend the night I met her."

"Yeah? What do you remember about her?"

"She was cute, with long blonde hair, same colored streaks. Huge tits." Laughing when I cringe, he rephrases, "Huge breasts."

"Did you get her name?" I ask with a sigh.

"Ummm… Jenna? Jill?"

"So you don't know."

He shrugs. "I wasn't really paying a lot of attention to her."

"Even with the huge breasts?"

"I prefer brunettes," he replies with a smirk. "And I'm more of an ass man."

"All right, think, Edward, can you remember anything else about her?"

He stands, pacing back and forth across the room a few times before he stops suddenly. "They were cheerleaders."

"What?"

"Angela and her friend — they were cheerleaders. Angela had this cork board up on the wall in her bedroom, and there was a photo up there of her and her friend in their cheerleading uniforms. They looked so different that I thought the photo was years old."

"But it wasn't?"

"No, she was a senior in high school. Of course, I only found that out after."

"Do you know which high school?"

He shakes his head. "No, I don't remember, if I ever knew."

"I have an idea," I tell him, jumping up from the couch. I retrieve one of the kitchen chairs, carrying it into the living room to set it by my desk. "Sit," I direct.

"What are we looking for?"

"Angela's high school. Maybe it was mentioned in one of the newspaper articles about the case."

"Can I look?" he asks shyly.

"Why?"

"I don't… know if I want you to read all the articles. Unless you already have?"

"I've only read the local ones. Since when do you care what I think of you?"

"Just… please?" he pleads.

"Fine," I reply, sitting on the kitchen chair. Edward takes a seat on my desk chair and brings up the browser window.

I watch anxiously as Edward searches through the articles, trying not to look over his shoulder. After about 10 minutes, Edward finally shouts, "I got it! Northgate Christian Academy."

"Great! See if they have a website."

"What are we looking for?" he asks, once he finds it.

"I don't know — anything that will tell us the identity of Angela's friend."

He clicks on something, and I peek over, trying to see what it is. "Photos from last year's homecoming," he explains.

He scrolls down the page, stopping suddenly. "There," he says quietly, turning the monitor so I can have a better look.

And there, right in front of me, is a photo of Angela Weber, flanked by two of her friends, Lauren Mallory and Jessica Stanley.

"She looks…"

"Not at all like the girl I knew. That's her friend," he says, pointing at Jessica.

"I could tell by the, uh, breasts," I reply, feeling my face heat up.

"So we know her name. Now what?"

"Can you find out anything else about her on the website?"

It takes another ten minutes of searching until we stumble on a list of last year's top 10 ranked students — with Jessica Stanley at the top of the list. "Damn it," I curse, reading the short blurb on her.

"What is it?"

"It says she plans to attend Dartmouth in the Fall."

"So?"

"Dartmouth is in New Hampshire."

Edward closes his eyes. "Which means our only link to Angela is on the other side of the fucking country."

"I'm afraid so."

Angrily, Edward closes the browser window, standing up. "So we've wasted the entire fucking afternoon on a dead end."

I watch as he heads into the kitchen, returning moments later with one of the bottles of beer. "Don't you say a word."

"I… wasn't going to. I'm sorry, Edward."

He sits heavily on the couch, leaning his head back, before sitting up abruptly and taking a long pull from the bottle. I wisely decide to leave him alone, moving to my desk chair and checking my e-mails and the animal blog until I start to get hungry.

"Is it ok if I just reheat some lasagna for dinner?"

Edward nods from where he still sits on the couch.

"How do you always wake up when I'm headed to the kitchen?" I tell my cat, shaking my head as I add some dinner to his bowl. "I haven't seen you all afternoon."

I fix two plates when the microwave timer beeps, pouring one glass of Pepsi and grabbing another beer for Edward before he can ask.

"Thanks," he says quietly, sitting down to eat.

We eat in silence before I take care of the dishes while Edward returns to the living room, turning on the TV. My cell phone rings just as I am about to join him.

"H—hello?" I answer, sitting on the arm of the couch.

"_Bella!_" Alice squeals loudly. "_Are you feeling better?_"

"Hey, Alice," I reply, motioning at Edward to turn down the volume on the TV when I see him watching me anxiously. "I—I'm still pretty sick, actually. Taking lots of cold meds," I lie.

"_Oh, that's too bad. Do you think you'll feel better by this weekend? I feel like it's been ages since I've seen you._"

"_This_ weekend? I don't know. I don't want you to catch anything." I add a fake cough for effect, feeling ridiculous.

"_All right, we'll wait and see. I hope you had a good birthday?_"

"My birthday was… interesting. It won't be one I'll ever forget." And that's an understatement.

"_Oooh, you're being cryptic. Tell me you've finally gotten your head out of your ass, and it's related to a man._"

"Maybe," I laugh. "Nothing I can talk about."

"_Josh, no! Sorry, Bella, Josh just knocked over one of my plants. I'll talk to you soon, all right?_"

"All right, bye, Alice." I end the call, closing my eyes while I try to get my breathing under control. I've only met Josh once when Alice brought him down with her. I reacted so badly that she never brought him again.

"Bella? Are you ok?" Edward's soft voice breaks through my small panic attack. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"A friend of yours?" he asks curiously. I nod again. "When was your birthday?"

"Thursday," I whisper.

"Why did you lie to her about being sick?"

"Because she wants to come visit next weekend."

"Oh… yeah, that would be a disaster," he replies, standing up. When he returns, he's carrying two beers and hands one to me. "Drink it. You look like you need it."

He's right — I do need it.

"On one condition."

"What's that?" he asks with a grin.

"You give _me_ the remote control. No more Monday night football."

"Deal," he laughs, clinking his bottle to mine.

* * *

**A/N: **What are you all thinking now that you've heard a bit more of Edward's story? Anything else on your minds?

I will say that in reading to this point, my pre-reader moosals thought of something that they missed when going over Edward's story. If any of you have the same revelation, stay tuned — I was a step ahead and had already written it into the next chapter when Bella gets an epiphany.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Lots of ideas on how Bella and Edward could go about proving Edward's innocence. Most of them rely on some sort of eyewitness testimony though, which isn't full proof. Only one reader figured out the definitive way. Let's see what it is. :)

* * *

_Tuesday, September 18, 2012_

It's still relatively early when I open my eyes to a bright sunny day — a rarity in western Washington. I crawl out of bed and walk into the living room. Edward is asleep on the couch, lying on his side with his back up against the back of the couch. Leo is curled up in a ball along his stomach. I almost want to take a picture.

I head into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. Edward is still sleeping when I come out, but Leo follows me into the kitchen — of course. I put some food in his bowl and try to figure out what I want for breakfast. Digging around in the fridge, I see a tube of cinnamon rolls that I bought several weeks back and never made. Those sound perfect.

I've always hated trying to open those silly tubes. I press a spoon against the seam like the directions say, but when I have no success, I resort to banging it on the edge of the counter.

"What's the noise?" I hear Edward sleepily mumble from the living room. Oops. I forgot my "roommate" was still sleeping.

"Sorry," I call, "Just me."

Moments later, I hear Edward's footsteps behind me. "What are you doing?" he asks.

"Making breakfast. Cinnamon rolls," I explain as I arrange the five rolls in a small pan. "Did you want me to hold off for a few minutes before putting them in the oven so you have time to shower?" I ask, turning around to face him.

Oh holy shit. He's just in his underwear. My eyes are drawn to his boxers and the rather noticeable bulge in them. Fuck, fuck, fuck… _keep your eyes above the waist, Bella_.

Edward smirks at me. I feel my face heat up at the realization that he caught me looking.

"You might need to give me a few extra minutes in the shower," he replies with a grin, turning toward the bathroom.

Great, just great. Now I have the visual in my head of Edward in the shower… pleasuring himself. I wait at least five minutes after I hear the water turn on before placing the pan in the oven and setting the timer.

While the rolls are baking, I set the table, then fold up the blankets on Edward's bed and move the pillow onto the chair.

"Mmm… those smell good," his voice calls from behind me.

"Should be almost ready." When I turn around to face him, I realize he's naked. Well, almost naked… his towel hangs low on his hips. There are still droplets of water sprinkled along his torso. It takes me a moment to look north of his neck and realize he's shaved.

"Jesus, do you have no shame?"

"What?" he asks with a shrug. "I forgot my clothes." Reaching into the Walmart bag, he pulls out the pair of boxers he was wearing when he arrived, then… drops his towel.

"Oh my God," I shriek, squeezing my eyes closed and turning around. Not before I got a pretty good look at his naked ass, however. His very _fine_, naked ass.

I hear Edward's chuckle behind me as I stand there mortified. "You can turn around, Bella."

I peek over my shoulder first, confirming that he is indeed now wearing underwear. "You really have no shame at all, do you?"

He shrugs again. "I'm not ashamed of my body. Oh, we might need to do more laundry today — this was my last pair of boxers." He steps into the lounge pants, grabbing the t-shirt he wore on Sunday.

Mercifully, I'm saved by the sound of the oven timer beeping. I remove the pan from the oven and spread the icing over the rolls, lifting two onto each of our plates.

"Thanks," he says, taking his seat. "So what are we gonna do today?"

"Do? I don't know. We probably shouldn't attempt going out again."

"Yeah, probably not," he answers.

"How's your wound?"

"Fine. It doesn't hurt. When do you need to take the stitches out? Or are they the dissolving kind?"

"I need to take them out, but I'm not sure when. I've only ever stitched animals before. I can take a look at it after breakfast."

"Ok," he replies, drinking a long gulp of his milk.

"I assume you want the last roll," I say when his plate is clean.

"Sure," he grins, "If you don't mind."

Once Edward finishes his breakfast, I take the plates and glasses to the sink to wash them. He helps out by drying and putting them away. Teamwork.

"Come on over to the table and I'll look at your wound," I tell him. I take a seat, motioning him closer until he's standing in front of me.

"Mmm… now this is a position I like," he says with a smirk.

"Oh my God, don't you ever stop?" I growl, standing up quickly and walking away before I… I don't know, but it won't be pleasant.

"Kidding! I'm kidding, Bella," he laughs. "Once again, you don't disappoint." I stand several feet away, glaring at him with my arms crossed in front of my chest. "Sorry, sorry… I'll behave."

With that promise, I return to my seat, lifting up Edward's t-shirt to check out the wound on his stomach. "Hmmm… better give it a couple more days, I think."

"You're the doctor," he shrugs, heading into the living room.

I start a load of laundry then join Edward in the living room, where he's already commandeered the remote control.

"Ugh," he groans, "I swear, there is nothing on TV. This is why I never got up until noon." I can't help but laugh at him. "What do you do all day, all alone out here?"

I shrug. "Surf the web, reply to e-mails, answer questions on the animal blog I write for. And I read. Would you like to borrow my Kindle?"

Edward just wrinkles his nose. "You never read?" I ask him.

"Not really."

About a half hour later, he stands up, stretching. "I am so bored!"

"Well, it's not my job to entertain you! You were the one who crashed into _my_ life, remember? It looks like a beautiful day outside… go take a walk around the lake or something."

"Sorry. I don't mean to sound like I don't appreciate you or everything you've done for me. Will you get mad if I grab a beer?"

"Yes."

"Fine," he sighs, rolling his eyes as he sits back down.

"Where's your cat? Can I play with him?" he asks five minutes later.

"Leo was sleeping in the middle of my bed when I gathered the laundry earlier. Go ahead and wake him up if you want. His pile of toys is over there in the corner."

I was in the middle of a book on my Kindle last week before I talked to my dad and Edward showed up, so I decide to read that while Edward entertains himself with my cat. By the time I finish the book, it's time for lunch.

"Is fish ok?" I ask Edward, who's sitting on the floor, holding a feather on a string in front of Leo's face while he bats playfully at it.

"Yeah, fish is fine. Is it in the fridge?" When I nod, he offers to make lunch. Well, there's a surprise.

A half hour later, Edward lets me know that lunch is ready. "You cooked this?" I ask in shock, looking at the pan seared trout in some sort of sauce that's sitting on my plate.

"Yeah, told you I wasn't helpless."

As we finish lunch, Edward springs his next idea on me. "I want to call my mom."

"Call her as in… on the phone?"

"Yeah," he nods. "She must be worried sick about me."

"You can't call her with my cell phone! There's no telling what kind of tracers or whatever the cops have in place, just expecting you to call home. It's far too dangerous — for me as well as you."

"You really think they have her phone tapped?"

"You're a wanted man, Edward. Remember my dad is a cop… I wouldn't put anything past them in trying to find you. You can get a lot from a person's cell—

"Oh my God," I yell. "How did we miss this yesterday?"

"Miss what?"

"The phones," I explain excitedly. "You said Angela called you to come over. You guys would have each other's numbers in your Contacts."

"Sure, Angela had my number, but don't you think she's deleted it by now? Hell, she might even have a different phone."

"What about _your_ phone though? Where is it?"

"All my stuff is at my parents' house. I moved back in after I was arrested. I never had her number though."

"You didn't? Why not?"

I shrug. "She gave me her digits and I punched them in and called her, then she saved my name and number. I never saved hers though."

"Why not?"

"You really want me to answer that?" When I nod, he continues, "Because I wasn't planning to call her. I don't need to call women when I'm looking for a little action. _They_ call _me_, or I can hit the nearest bar and pick someone up. I never wanted to look desperate."

"You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?" I tell him, my eyes narrowed.

"It's just a fact, Bella. Women want me; they love the bad boy. You're the only woman I've met who seems to be immune to my charms," he smirks.

"You still called her though," I say, changing the subject. "Her number would be in your call history, and hers would be in yours."

"But that was months ago and the call history doesn't really go back that far, does it?"

"You can request detailed records from your cell phone provider. Well, _you_ can't, but someone can do it for you."

"Like my mom, if you let me call her."

"No, you are not calling her from here. It's probably not even safe for you to use a pay phone — if we could even find one — since that would also tell the cops you're still in the area.

"I get that you want to let her know you're all right, but not by calling her."

"What about on the internet? I saw you have a webcam. Do you ever use Skype?" he asks.

"I Skype my dad, but… just being able to see my house on the webcam makes me uncomfortable."

"Do you ever use any chat programs? My mom uses Skype and g-chat to talk to my brother."

"You have a brother?" I ask, startled by this piece of information.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't I know that?"

"It never came up in conversation," he shrugs. "What about chatting with mom?"

"I do have g-chat, but we can't use _my_ account."

"Simple, we'll make a new one. We can just send something pretty generic until Mom lets us know it's safe."

I think about this one. Maybe it'll be ok if she deletes the chat log and we don't say anything incriminating anyway? Could the cops be monitoring her internet? I'm not sure if that's possible or not — seems kind of scary if it is. I know corporations can do that to their employees, at least monitor web sites visited, but the cops would have to find and talk to her internet provider to set something up — is that legal without a search warrant?

I can tell that Edward really wants to be able to talk to his mom and set her mind at ease. "Ok," I agree.

With a big smile, Edward rushes to the computer, opens the g-chat program and creates a new identity. I grab one of the kitchen chairs so I can sit next to him.

"Sunshine?" I ask, noting the name he's using.

He shrugs. "It was her nickname for me."

"Your mom called you Sunshine? Like _you_ are a ray of sunshine?" I giggle.

"Go ahead and laugh. She'll know it's me."

"Fuck, she's not online," he adds a minute later. "I can still send her something she'll read when she logs on. She'll probably log on after work."

"What does your mom do for a living?" I ask curiously.

"She owns her own interior design firm."

"Really? What's her name?"

"Esme Cullen. Why?"

"My friend Alice is an interior designer up in Seattle."

"The one you talked to last night?"

"Yeah… small world."

"What should we say to her, do you think?" he asks.

"Something generic, but let her know that we know who she is, that this isn't random."

**Sunshine: hello Mrs. Cullen**

"And now we wait," he says, standing up. "I'm gonna get a bottle of water — you want one?"

"I'm good."

"So tell me about your brother," I suggest once Edward returns. "What's his name?"

"Emmett."

"I guess he doesn't live in Seattle if you mom talks to him online?" I deduce.

"Right," he nods. "Emmett lives in Wisconsin."

"Wisconsin? Why there? Is it for work?"

"Yeah, he plays for the Packers."

"Your brother is a professional football player for the Green Bay Packers?" I ask, shocked.

"Yep. You want to see him?" At my nod, Edward opens another browser tab, finding some sort of NFL website. "There he is," he says, bringing up Emmett's player page.

The man staring back at me looks nothing at all like Edward. He has curly blond hair, twinkling blue eyes and enormous dimples. His stats say 6'3" and 250 pounds — Edward is probably almost that tall but he can't weigh more than 170 pounds.

"He looks nothing like you."

"Well, he shouldn't. We're not biological siblings."

"You're not?"

"No," Edward replies quietly. "I'm adopted."

Well, this is news. "Is Emmett adopted also?"

"No."

"He's also 24… same age as you?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Emmett is five months older than me."

And suddenly a few things snap into place for me. "You said you started cooking your own meals when you were five years old — was that with your biological parents?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"How—how old were you when you were adopted?"

"Eleven," he answers, barely audible. Oh shit, there must be something serious in Edward's background for him to have been adopted as an older child like that. His eyes are downcast and he almost looks like he might cry.

Without thinking, I reach my hand up, cupping Edward's cheek. He immediately turns his eyes to mine, nuzzling into my hand. "It's ok, Edward," I say, stroking his cheek with my thumb. "I won't ask for more details than you want to give me."

"Thanks," he whispers, giving me a small smile. I slowly stroke my fingers down past his freshly shaved jaw to his neck before pulling my hand back.

A ding from the computer interrupts the moment we seem to be having.

_DesignsByE: Do I know you?_

_DesignsByE: Edward, is that you?_

**Sunshine: it's me, mom**

_DesignsByE: Oh my God, Edward! I have been worried sick about you. Are you ok?_

**Sunshine: i'm fine**

_DesignsByE: Where are you?_

**Sunshine: you know i can't tell you that**

**Sunshine: is it safe to talk?**

_DesignsByE: Yes, yes, it should be fine. Carlisle is still at the hospital, so I'm alone. I'm pretty sure the police are monitoring our calls though._

"Carlisle?" I ask.

"My dad. He's a doctor."

_DesignsByE: Are you sure you're all right? The thought of you out there all alone…_

**Sunshine: i'm not alone, mom**

_DesignsByE: You're not? You're with one of your friends?_

**Sunshine: you could say that**

**Sunshine: mom, i need a favor**

_DesignsByE: Of course, Sunshine! Anything._

**Sunshine: get my cell phone records, there might be something there to prove that i knew angela, so i can get a new trial**

_DesignsByE: Mr. Marks has been working hard on preparing the motion for a new trial. We'll get it, Edward._

**Sunshine: thank you**

_DesignsByE: Edward, please, please turn yourself in. We'll have you out in a few months. It's just, the police are saying you're armed and dangerous, and I'm so afraid that someone will shoot first and ask questions later._

**Sunshine: i'm fine, mom, and i'm not turning myself in**

**Sunshine: one more thing, angela's friend jessica stanley was there when i met her, but she might be at dartmouth, can you try to find her?**

_DesignsByE: All right, I'll tell Alec that, too. Please be safe._

**Sunshine: always :)**

_DesignsByE: I love you, Edward._

**Sunshine: me too, delete the chat log and i'll message you again in a few days**

I put my hand on Edward's shoulder once he closes the chat window. "Have faith, maybe your lawyer will find something."

"Yeah," he replies quietly, but he still looks sad.

"Do you want to go for a walk? Put on your jeans and the hoodie and we'll walk around the lake, all right?"

"Ok," he responds, standing up. Thankfully, Edward takes his clothes into the bathroom instead of changing in front of me. I find my shoes and jacket and meet him at the door.

"It's beautiful out here," he says as we reach the lake. "It's peaceful."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I thought when I first moved here."

"Is this where you went a couple days ago when you left?"

"Yeah, I did a few laps around the lake."

"I guess I understand more now why you were so upset. I didn't know then that you're married."

"Hmm," I reply quietly.

Edward and I spend a couple of hours walking around Lake Aberdeen, mostly in silence, before we head back to the house.

"I saw some chicken defrosting in the fridge when I got the fish. Were you planning on that for dinner?" he asks.

"Yeah, I usually bake it."

"I'll cook again. You do enough for me," he says with a smile.

"Are you sure?" I ask skeptically.

"I'm sure. You sit down and relax and I'll call you when it's ready. I'll feed the cat, too."

I turn on the TV, watching the evening news, wondering about the man in my kitchen. Edward is definitely a bit of an enigma. He undeniably has a sweet playful side, despite being a bit rough around the edges. There is clearly a lot more to the story of his adoption and how the son of a doctor ended up robbing a liquor store. I want to ask him about it, but I'm afraid that he'll clam up — or push _me_ for answers that I don't want to give.

I walk into the kitchen when Edward calls, stunned by the meal on my plate. "_You_ made this?" I ask in shock. The chicken breasts appear to have been pounded flat, then stuffed with a cheesy mixture. They're flanked by what looks to be risotto.

"Do you see anyone else here?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"How did you learn to cook like this?"

"On-the-job training."

"It's really good," I say once I take a bite. Really, really good.

"I have to earn my keep around here somehow."

We're both almost finished with our plates before he speaks again. "Do you think my lawyer will be able to get the information we need?"

"He should be able to get the cell phone records, for sure. I'm less certain about finding Jessica. How come he never requested the phone records before?"

"I don't think he knew there was anything to find."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not sure that I ever told the police Angela called me. The cops showed up at my work late one night, dragging me to the station to question me about a break-in and murder. At first I had no idea at all what they were talking about. I hadn't done anything, so why would I? I don't usually watch the news or read the paper, so I didn't know anything about the case.

"Eventually they told me that my fingerprints had been found in the home of the victim. They told me her name at some point, but it meant nothing to me — I never knew Angela's last name, so I didn't make the connection at the time.

"They got a search warrant to go through my apartment and several weeks later they arrested me. It was only when I was formally charged that I saw the address of the house and realized it was Angela's. Before that, I just figured they were lying about having evidence to get me to admit to a crime they had no other suspect for."

"Why would the police come up with your name as a suspect if the fingerprints weren't real?" I ask curiously.

He shrugs. "I have enemies — any one of them could've lied and given them my name.

"Once I realized the victim was Angela's mother, I told the cops about meeting Angela at the bar and that I was in the house to fu— have sex with her," he amends quickly, smirking at me. "I was so sure they'd just talk to her and everything would be straightened out."

"And your lawyer?" I ask.

"He was there when I was talking to the police, but I never really went over my story step-by-step with him the way you went through it with me. He had a copy of my testimony from when the cops recorded it.

"I know now I should've told him every detail. I just… I thought Angela would tell the truth and it would all go away. I never imagined that she'd lie in court like that and let me get convicted for something I didn't do."

"Well, you have a chance to change it now." I try to console him. "The phone records should prove that you two were involved."

"Will they prove it in time though?"

"In time for what?"

"Before I get caught, or die of boredom," he smirks.

Sighing, I stand up and grab our plates to wash. Edward helps me dry them again before we retire to the living room.

"You're not gonna make me watch that stupid reality show again, are you?" he asks, flopping on the couch. "It's Tuesday night — Chopped is on the Food Network. That's my favorite show."

"Yes, we're watching The Voice again," I tell Edward, much to his disappointment. "You can watch Chopped when it's done. Your favorite TV show is a cooking show?"

"What did you think it would be? CSI?" he snarks.

"I guess I never thought about it," I reply as Leo jumps up to join us. "Hey, boy, you want to give me some attention tonight? I think you like Edward better than me."

"Of course he does — bros before hos. And you're the one who obviously had him neutered. I'd hold a grudge for that one, too," he smirks.

* * *

**A/N: **Kudos to **kymbersmith90**, the only one to figure out that the cell phone records would prove that Edward and Angela knew each other!

Some interesting new information about Edward's past was revealed in this one. And Bella and Edward grew a little closer. Thoughts on this chapter?

Many of you started reading my stuff after "Oh Brother" got Honorable Mention in the first Taste of the Forbidden contest last summer. I have entered a one-shot in the Taste of the Forbidden II contest. Voting is scheduled to run Monday through Wednesday, so check it out!

FF (slash) ~tasteoftheforbiddenii


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Hmmm... you guys like Edward's lawyer about as much as Angela!

Ready to find out more about Edward's past?

* * *

_Wednesday, September 19, 2012_

When I wake up on Wednesday morning, it seems like another beautiful day. I wander out of my bedroom to find Edward seated at my computer.

"Good morning."

"Hey," he greets me. "I figured I'd make us omelets while you're in the shower, ok?"

"Sure, yeah, that sounds great," I reply. I could get used to this. "See you in a few minutes."

When I'm showered and dressed, I step into the kitchen, where Edward is standing at the stove.

"Almost ready," he calls over this shoulder. "I made some bacon earlier to put in mine — do you want some too, or just cheese?"

"Yeah, bacon would be great. And I think there's a tomato in the fridge."

"Breakfast is served," he announces a few minutes later, sliding the omelet onto the plate in front of me with a flourish.

I'm halfway done — and it's delicious — before Edward finishes cooking his own omelet and joins me. Of course, he'll probably still be finished _eating_ before me.

"I used up all your eggs, sorry."

"That's all right," I respond. "I'll get more on Friday when I go to Walmart with Mrs. Cope again."

"Who is Mrs. Cope?"

"She's a retired teacher who lives in Hoquiam. She was one of my dad's high school teachers. I ran into her at Walmart right after I moved here, and she recognized me from when he used to bring me down here to fish. When she found out I didn't drive, she offered to help me out by giving me rides. She's a nice widow — I think she's bored," I conclude with a smile.

"Pretty long walk to town if she wasn't helping you."

"Yeah… I was thinking I'd have to get one of those carts like people in New York City use to carry things around."

Standing up to rinse off my plate, I compliment Edward on his cooking skills once more. "You really are a good cook."

"Thanks," he says shyly.

Once the dishes are finished, Edward suggests that we go for another walk around the lake. I quickly grab my jacket and shoes to join him.

"What were you doing on the PC earlier?" I ask curiously.

"Reading the local news. The opinion seems to be that I'm long gone from the area. The cops are trying to calm the residents and tell them there's no reason for concern."

"Well, there's not."

"No," he says softly. "Why did you believe me that first day?"

"I'm not sure I can really articulate it, Edward. I saw the look in your eyes when the police knocked on the door. You looked terrified, panicked. It just… wasn't the look of a guilty person. And then there's Leo," I chuckle.

"What about him?"

"He hid under the kitchen table when you knocked, but then when you sat down, he came out and started sniffing around at your feet. You'd have to know my cat to know that he just doesn't do that with strangers. It's like he somehow knew that you were ok. I've studied enough about animal behavior to know that they can just… sense things that humans can't. I trusted my cat, as ridiculous as that sounds."

"So I have Leo to thank for the fact that you didn't turn me in? In that case, I'll put some extra food in his bowl tonight."

I laugh; I can't help it. When he's not taunting me about something sexual, I find that I enjoy spending time with Edward. Even just walking in silence around the lake path, I feel… lighter with him by my side. I haven't felt something like that in a long time.

"All this exercise is making me hungry," he says after several laps. "Ready to go back in?"

I nod and start for the path back to the house.

"We still have some leftover lasagna," I tell him as I dig around the fridge. "Probably not enough for dinner, but ok for lunch?"

Edward nods and I stick the container in the microwave and then get our drinks. "I put a couple steaks in the fridge last night to thaw for dinner, ok?"

"Sure — do you have a grill?"

"Yeah, it's outside, through the mudroom. My dad got it to grill fish, of course."

"Your dad must love fishing," he remarks.

"Oh, he does. He used to go out practically every weekend with… with his best friend."

"Used to?"

"Um, yeah, they—they had a falling out a few years ago."

When the microwave beeps, I fix two plates and carry them to the table.

"This really is good lasagna," Edward says as he eats. "Where did you get the recipe?"

"One of my neighbors in Phoenix. She taught me to cook when I was eight or nine. I was at her house playing with her daughter, who was my best friend, and I told her how much better the food she made was than what my mother made at home," I laugh.

"It was really that bad?"

"Worse. My mother is kind of… creative in the kitchen."

After we wash the dishes, Edward and I get comfortable on the couch in the living room.

"So tell me about a five-year-old learning to cook."

He shrugs. "It wasn't so much cooking then, but I could make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich," he chuckles. "Once I learned to read, I graduated to heating up canned pasta, or making boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese, or Chef Boyardee spaghetti."

"Where did you _really_ learn though?"I ask curiously.

"My first job was as a fry cook at Jack in the Box."

"Ooh, the top of the food chain there."

"Yeah, yeah… I was 16 and they were hiring," he responds, grinning.

"So… how did the adopted son of a doctor end up working at Jack in the Box? Was your father trying to instill some kind of values in you that he thought you needed to work?"

"Not… exactly."

"How then?"

"I… did a lot of stupid things as a teenager. I was arrested a few times, had a bit of a juvie record."

"That would've gotten sealed when you turned 18, right?"

"Yeah. The worst thing I ever did was steal a car with some friends and go joyriding."

"Why would you do that? Did you not have a car?"

"I didn't — I was only 15 at the time. Some of my friends had cars though, sure. Not fast ones though. And we were bored.

"Anyway, most of the charges were for possession. My dad cut off my allowance, saying he didn't want his money going to buy drugs. So I got a job."

"How long did you work at Jack in the Box?"

"Couple years. I turned 18 in June, a few weeks after my high school graduation. My dad sat me down then and told me how I was an adult now, how anything I did would be on my permanent record, blah blah. When he caught me with some weed in my room the next week, he freaked out and kicked me out of the house until I gave it up."

"Your dad kicked you out?" I repeat, shocked.

"Yeah. I moved in with a buddy who was looking for a roommate. But I pretty quickly realized I needed to earn more than minimum wage, so I found a better paying job at a sandwich shop."

I can't help myself — I burst out laughing.

"What?" Edward asks, confused.

"I can just picture your smiling face asking me what I want on my turkey sub," I giggle.

"I didn't make the subs," he explains, rolling his eyes. "I worked in the back as a prep cook and baking the bread."

"That's more like it," I reply, still giggling.

"My mom used to slip me extra money, too, which was awesome. She wasn't so much in agreement with my dad's 'tough love' stance."

"Will you tell me now why you robbed the liquor store?"

Edward sighs before nodding. "After a year or so, I got fired from the sub shop. I'd had a couple warnings already for arriving late due to a hangover… and then I showed up drunk one day. My own fault, I know — you don't have to say it. I needed money for rent, but I didn't want to go to my mom and tell her that I'd gotten fired, so I robbed the store."

"Because of your pride?" I scoff.

"Yeah, I guess. I was horribly inept as a thief — I didn't case out the store in advance, so I didn't know they had a security camera or a silent alarm system.

"It was ridiculously easy to rob them though. I brought a gun, but I kept it in the pocket of my jacket. It wasn't loaded anyway. They just… gave me the money when I asked, and I ran out."

"Where did you get the gun?" I ask.

"Believe it or not, my mom helped me get it the previous Christmas. It was legal and everything. She got freaked out by all the stories of assaults and burglaries in my neighborhood and thought I needed it for protection.

"Anyway, I was a couple blocks from the store when I heard sirens. I was too cocky to really believe they'd stop me, but just in case, I threw the gun in a dumpster. But they did stop me. Someone had pressed the silent alarm and the police showed up almost as soon as I left. The store clerk had given them my description. And the security video pretty much proved it was me.

"What did your parents say?"

"They were furious… mom cried. But they got me a lawyer. A good one, too. I was charged with armed robbery, but given that no one saw the gun and the cops couldn't find it, I was convicted of a lesser charge."

"I thought you _could_ go down for armed robbery for just the hint of a gun, at least if you rob a bank," I muse.

"Maybe," he shrugs. "But my lawyer worked his magic. I was sentenced to 7-10 years, but I got out after just over three years due to good behavior and overcrowding."

"What happened when you got out? Was it hard to find another job with a felony conviction on your record?"

"Not as hard as I expected," he shrugged. "A buddy of mine washed dishes at his parents' Italian restaurant and they hired me as a line cook."

"So _that's_ how you're qualified to judge the quality of my lasagna," I laugh.

"Yep, that's how," he smiles. "I really learned a lot about cooking in the time that I worked there."

"Did they fire you after you were arrested?"

"No — my friend's parents believed in my innocence. I worked in the back, in the kitchen, so none of the customers saw me. I probably would've been fired if I waited tables or something."

"Yeah, probably," I agree, chuckling as he yawns. "Tired?"

"Yeah, I didn't sleep all that well last night."

"Do you want to take a nap? I can just go to my room and read so you can have the couch," I suggest.

"You don't mind?"

"No, no, it's fine. I told you I used to read a lot before you showed up."

"Ok," he nods. "I'll get the steaks ready about six o'clock, all right? Unless I oversleep."

"Sounds good," I reply, standing up. Leo follows me into the bedroom, curling up for a long winter's nap by my side as I prop a couple pillows up against the headboard.

Since I finished the novel yesterday that I'd been reading, I decide to begin a popular novel that I've heard and read so much about online. I downloaded it for my Kindle a couple of weeks ago, but hadn't started reading it yet.

Hours later, Edward's knock on the door alerts me that dinner is ready. I'm sure I've been blushing for the last four hours over what I've been reading. Maybe it wasn't a great idea to read an erotic novel when I haven't had sex in almost three years and the hottest male specimen I've ever seen in person is in my kitchen… cooking me dinner.

"Are you ok?" Edward asks as I take my seat at the table. "Your face is kinda flushed."

"It—it's nothing," I lie. Shit, I do not need Edward to know about how I was picturing the lead character looking very much like him.

"The steak looks great," I add, trying to change the subject.

"I hope you like it… I tried to copy the marinade we used at the restaurant, but I didn't quite have all of the ingredients," he says shyly.

I take a bite and it's delicious… and perfectly cooked. "This is delicious, Edward," I moan. "And you made side dishes, too," I add, looking at my baked potato and green beans.

"Yeah, I found your potatoes. You're going to have to buy real vegetables this week though… no more of that canned shit."

"You're pretty bossy for a houseguest," I tell him, my eyes narrowed. Edward shrugs in response.

"Have you ever thought about going to culinary school?" I ask him as I finish up my meal.

"I don't know… it's pretty expensive, isn't it? There was no way for me to afford it."

"You don't think your parents would pay for it, if you were showing initiative toward a real career?"

He shrugs. "My mom would, I guess, if I asked."

"Where's your iPod?" Edward asks as we return to the living room, the dishes washed and put away.

"In my bedroom, why?"

"Go get it."

"Again with the bossiness," I grumble… but I do as he says.

Edward plugs the device into my iHome and flips through my playlist. "You made me watch that singing competition the last two nights… let's listen to some _real_ artists. It's time to have some fun. Pretty much every weekend I go out to clubs or bars, listening to music, dancing…"

"Picking up women?"

"Well, that too," he grins. "Come on, dance with me!"

"Oh, no, I—I couldn't. I can't dance."

"Of course you can. Everyone can dance," he insists, starting to move his hips to the beat. _Eyes above the waistline, Bella._

"I can't, Edward! When I was growing up, I was so clumsy that I used to trip over thin air. I didn't even dance at my… at my own wedding."

Edward's eyes widen. "Well, it's about time you learned then." Suddenly, he grabs my hand, pulling me close to him, my back to his chest. Putting his arms around me, he tries to show me how to move my hips. I want to protest, want to tell him to stop, but I can't deny that I _like_ the way his arms feel around my waist.

"That was good, Bella," he says with a smile when the song ends. "But I know what you need."

Edward disappears into the kitchen, returning with two bottles of beer. "Here," he says, handing me one of the bottles. "It'll make you less self-conscious."

Despite a nagging feeling that this is a Very Bad Idea, I take a drink from my bottle, then set it on the desk before Edward spins me into his arms, trying to show me another dance move.

For the next few hours, we dance and laugh, sometimes singing along with the music on my iPod. And we drink. By my third beer, I'm definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol after so many years without a drop of it.

Edward tries to spin me around and I stumble a bit, leaning on his strong chest for support. "Are you drunk?" he laughs. "You're only on your third beer."

I shrug — I probably _am_ drunk, but I don't want to admit it.

"It's good to see you smiling and laughing. You always seem so sad."

"You were right, Edward — this is fun. Oh! I love this song."

A big grin on his face, Edward pulls me close, making me move my hips in time with his. Maybe it's the alcohol clouding my judgment, but the way he's looking at me… like a predator on the prowl for his next victim.

I need to give myself a dose of reality — fast.

"So if I was in a bar and you came in, would you even glance at me?" I ask.

"Of course I would. I glance at every woman when I walk into a bar," he smirks.

"Trying to find your next conquest?"

"Exactly," he replies, spinning me around so that my back is to him.

"Would you… would you buy me a drink, or ask me to dance?"

"Bella," he growls, a hint of warning in his voice.

"I want to know," I tell him, turning around so he's forced to look me in the eye.

Edward sighs, shaking his head a little before he speaks. "No, I wouldn't have. You'd look far too innocent to get my attention."

"I'm not who you think I am," I argue. "I'm not so innocent."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm _not_. You don't know the things I've done." I don't know why I'm arguing with him. This is what I wanted, something to help me smother what I am beginning to recognize is a growing attraction to Edward. I need him to remind me who he is — that he's only out for a good time, and I am certainly not the woman to give it to him.

I'm startled out of my thoughts when he laughs out loud. "Oh please, I bet the worst thing you've ever done is drive five miles over the speed limit." He grabs his beer — he must be at least two bottles ahead of me — and takes a long swig before setting it back down.

The next song is a slower song. Edward pulls me close, his arms around my waist, and I coil my arms around his neck. It feels natural, somehow, to be this close to him. I look up into his eyes and I see the predator again. He didn't shave today and I wonder what the light scruff on his jaw would feel like against my face. I wonder what his lips would feel like.

He moves so slowly that I don't even realize he's moved until he's right there, his lips just an inch away from mine. I unconsciously part my lips slightly, licking them in anticipation.

The first brush of his lips on mine is gentle, the pressure lasting less than a second before he pulls back slightly. The second time, he pulls my top lip in between his, sucking gently before pulling back again. The third and fourth times are similar — slightly more pressure, lasting just a bit longer.

By the fifth kiss, I kiss him back, reaching out with my tongue to just touch his bottom lip. I shudder as I feel his tongue touch mine. It's been so, so long since I've felt anything like this.

Slowly his hands descend until they're cupping my ass, pulling me close until I can feel his erection against my hip. I gasp and he deepens our kiss a bit, still soft and gentle though. I feel the growl deep in his chest as his right hand reaches up to cup my cheek, turning my head slightly so that he can deepen the kiss even more.

Warning bells begin to go off in my head. This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. I untangle my arms from around his neck, pushing on his chest until he backs up. My tears start to fall at the look of shock on his face.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "I can't do this. I have to… I have to go…"

I dash away from him, picking up my purse from on top of the desk and rushing out the front door.

"Bella, wait!" he calls, but I don't stop running until I reach my truck. I take my keys from the side pocket of my purse, opening the door with shaking fingers. I turn the key in the ignition, but the moment my hand touches the gear shift, I feel my breathing begin to speed up.

"No, no… damn it!" I force myself to just _do_ it, finally shifting into Reverse, but I can't make my foot press down on the gas pedal. Nearly blinded by my tears, I shift back to Park, fold my arms against the steering wheel, and lean my head in my hands, sobbing.

How pathetic am I that I can't drive this car when all I want is to be away from him, away from this pull I feel towards him? What the hell am I doing? I admit it, I'm attracted to Edward. But it's not like I can — or should — do anything about it. Edward is a fugitive, crashing here until he can be on his way again.

He said it himself — he'd never look twice at me if we'd met a different way. I'm nothing like the kind of women he's usually with. He said Angela was kinky — there's nothing kinky about me! He'd be bored with me after one night.

And then there's Jacob. I haven't touched another man since Jacob. I haven't wanted to. What does it mean that the first man I want to touch is the last man I _should_ want?

Eventually I shut off the engine, my head still buried in the cocoon of my arms. I cry until there are no tears left. I haven't cried over Jacob in a long, long time and it feels good to get it all out.

When I realize it's gotten so cold in the truck that I can see my breath, I slowly sit up, opening the door. My knees almost buckle as I step onto the hard ground.

I slowly make my way back to the house, wondering what Edward has been doing while I've been gone. I don't even know how long I was in the truck.

When I open the front door and step into the warm house, Edward pops up from the couch, still fully dressed. "Jesus Christ, where have you been? I was so worried about you." He takes a step toward me and I hold up my hand.

"Don't touch me," I croak, my voice rough from crying so long. "Just… don't."

I grab a pair of pajamas from my room and lock myself in the bathroom. I'm so cold that I decide the only way I'll warm up is to take a long hot shower. When I'm finished, I step out into the living room and tiptoe toward the bedroom.

Leo slinks inside just before I close and lock the bedroom door. "Hey boy," I coo, pulling him close to me after he jumps up onto the bed. Normally he hates it when I do that, but he must sense how much I need it right now, as he snuggles closer to me, licking at my neck. "I love you too, Leo."

* * *

**A/N: **So, things are heating up a bit, eh? Will Bella finally tell Edward about Jacob?

My entry in the Taste of the Forbidden II contest did ok, top 10 in reviews, but didn't win anything. I have posted the beginning on my own profile and will be continuing it, though it won't be very long. It's called "Patience"... something my Bella and Edward don't have a lot of.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Edward is finally tired of being the only one to spill secrets, so it's time for Bella to talk!

* * *

_Thursday, September 20, 2012_

When I open my eyes, my head is pounding. I think it's morning, but it's still dark in my bedroom. I hear the soft pitter-patter of rain on my windows. Deciding it's a good morning to sleep in, I close my eyes again.

"Meow!"

I blink my eyes open, looking around for my cat. I finally see him in front of the — locked — door to my bedroom. Oh.

Crawling out of bed, I unlock the door and open it a crack so that Leo can slip out. He probably needs a drink of water — or his litter box.

As long as I'm up, I decide to use the bathroom myself. I tiptoe through the living room, in case Edward is still asleep, but I don't see him lying on the couch. I relieve myself then down a couple of pain pills for my headache and go back to bed, burying myself under the covers once again.

When I surface for the second time, my stomach growling alerts me to the fact that it's late — almost noon according to the clock. I find some clothes in the drawer and once again venture out of the bedroom. Edward is sitting on the couch watching something on television, the volume turned low. His head whips around as I step into the living room, but he doesn't speak — and neither do I.

After my shower, I brush my teeth then stare at my reflection in the mirror. I touch my lips, which still feel tingly when I think of last night's kiss with Edward.

I liked it; I liked the kiss. I feel intensely disloyal to Jacob for admitting that to myself, but it's the truth.

I'm afraid to leave the bathroom, afraid to face Edward. Will he be angry that I walked out last night? Will he want to do it again? Do _I_ want to do it again?

The lonely part of me does. The passionate part that I've squashed for the better part of three years does. But if I couldn't handle it last night, what makes me think I could handle it the next time?

_This is ridiculous_, I finally tell myself as I open the bathroom door and walk into the kitchen to find something to eat. There's still a little bit of the deli meat left, so I make myself a sandwich. I check Leo's bowl to see if he's eaten and it seems like he has. Edward must have fed him.

"I'm sorry," Edward says quietly from behind me, startling me as I sit at the table eating my sandwich. "I—I shouldn't have kissed you."

I don't reply, still unsure of what I should say to him.

"Why are you so angry with me when you _wanted_ me to kiss you?" he asks, sitting down across from me.

"I didn't… I didn't want that," I lie.

"Liar. You did want it. I saw the way you were looking at me."

"How was I looking at you?"

"Like you wanted me to kiss you!" he yells.

"I was wrong," I whisper. "It was the alcohol." I take another bite of my sandwich, hoping he'll go away and leave me alone.

"Where did you go last night?" Of course he won't go away.

"Out to my truck. I tried to leave, but I—I couldn't, so I just sat there."

"Someday you're going to tell me why you won't drive."

I nod. "Maybe. Not now."

After I finish my lunch and wash the dishes, I push aside my discomfort and make Edward come stand in front of me so I can check his wound again. "Yeah, I think the stitches can come out. Let me go get my stuff."

I return with my first-aid kit and sit down again. "Sorry this will hurt a bit. I can't really numb the area like they might in a doctor's office. You've had stitches removed before, I assume?"

"Why would you assume that?"

"You know… you said something about bar fights."

"What if I always win them?"

Huh. "Of course I've had stitches before. I can handle it, I'm a big boy." _You certainly are_, I think to myself, given my position staring at his groin.

"Turn around a little and let me do the back first. I only did a couple stitches back there."

Edward turns slightly and I get to work removing the stitches from the wound in his back. To his credit, he doesn't even seem to flinch. Once I'm finished, I apply more of the antibiotic ointment, just to be safe.

"Ok, turn back around. Doing ok so far?"

"I'm fine," he nods.

He does flinch a bit as I work on his stomach, but eventually I get all of the stitches out and apply more of the ointment.

"All done," I say, looking up at him. "Good as new."

"Thank you, Bella," he says quietly. "I know I don't say that enough."

After I wash my hands, I head into the living room, Edward following close behind. "Is it just guilt?" he asks as we sit on the couch together. Leo jumps up onto my lap for some attention.

"Guilt?" What does he mean by that? He can't _know_.

"For betraying your husband. I mean, I don't think a kiss is really cheating, but some people do."

I nod. I know Edward thinks I'm still married, but I do feel guilty for moving on — or at least thinking about moving on.

"Why don't you ever talk about him?" he asks curiously. "I mean, I don't know much of anything about your husband."

I shrug. Hopefully that's enough of a response to make him stop asking.

"Why don't you ever talk _to_ him? He doesn't call you. You don't Skype with him, or chat online. I've not heard you mention an e-mail from him."

At my silence he continues, "Maybe you _should_ cheat on him, since he doesn't seem to care about you very much if he won't keep in touch."

"Stop it!" I yell, pushing Leo off my lap and standing up. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"You're right, I don't — because you won't tell me anything! If your husband loves you so much, he'd be here with you, or at least staying in touch."

"Jacob loved me! Don't you dare say he didn't," I cry.

"Wait, what? Loved?" he asks quietly. "Are you two no longer together?"

I sit back down, pulling my feet up onto the couch and burying my head in my knees. I thought I had no tears left after last night, but I can't stop fresh tears from falling.

"Jacob is dead," I whisper, turning my head to face Edward. His eyes widen and he stares at me, not speaking. After an eternity, his hand reaches out, brushing my tears away.

"I'm so sorry, Bella… I had no idea. I thought — I thought he was in the military or something."

"I wish that's all it was."

"Why do you still have his clothes?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

"I couldn't… bear to get rid of them. I know he's not coming back — I'm not crazy."

"How did he die?" he asks softly, stroking my face again.

"In a car accident," I whisper.

Edward leans his head back, a rueful smile on his face. "I see. A lot of things make more sense now, like the fact that you won't drive. Was he driving drunk? Is that why you don't drink?"

"No, Jacob didn't drive drunk."

"A drunk driver hit _him_ then?"

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "Alcohol didn't cause the accident." Not directly.

"When did… when did he die?"

"It'll be three years in January," I answer, barely able to get the words out. "He died January 15, 2010. A part of me died that day, too."

"That's when you came here, isn't it?" he deduces. "That's why you're hiding out in the middle of nowhere."

"I moved a few months later, but yes," I reply softly.

"What are you doing, Bella? You're still young, but you're wasting your life because your husband died? I get that you loved him, I get that you were sad when he died, but this…" He stops, shaking his head. "It's such a waste."

"You don't understand," I cry, my tears falling faster again. "You don't know what it's like to have everything you love taken away from you in an instant."

"I know what it's like to have my freedom taken away," he argues.

"Not the same thing, Edward. No one understands how I feel. I couldn't deal with so many well-meaning people trying to make me feel better, so I left. I sold my car and my house and I left Seattle. I haven't been back since."

"You're wasting your life," he growls.

"It's my life to waste!"

"Don't you get it? I'm doing everything in my power so that I can live, and you're not even _trying_ to live. And that really pisses me off."

"Maybe I don't deserve to!" I scream.

"That doesn't even make any sense," he replies, shaking his head. "Yeah, it sucks what happened to you, but you've got to get over it and _move on_."

"I… I…"

"A part of you wants to move on — that's why you wanted me to kiss you last night."

"God, you're smug."

He laughs. "It's not my fault women want me," he smirks. "Come here, Bella," he says more softly, his arm beckoning to me.

Carefully, I scoot over until I'm nearly touching him. Edward reaches out, pulling me into his body. He wraps his other arm around me, hugging me tightly. I close my eyes, letting him hold me. When he begins stroking his hand through my hair, I tense but don't attempt to move away.

"You need to start living again, Bella," he says quietly. "And I'm going to help you."

"How do you plan to do that?" I scoff.

"Mrs. Cope is coming tomorrow morning to take you shopping, right?" At my nod, he continues, "When you get back, we're going out."

"We can't go out, Edward," I protest.

"Not around Aberdeen, maybe. We could go to a bigger city though, where we — I — can just blend in with the crowd."

"The nearest big city is Olympia, but that's like an hour away."

He snorts, "Probably longer in your piece-of-shit truck. It's perfect though, to go that far. And it's not Seattle, where everyone has seen my picture."

"Do you really think it's safe?" I ask.

"Well, you're probably right that I should cover my hair. Maybe you could get me a baseball cap to wear, instead of your dad's fishing hat?"

"You're a little crazy, you know that?" I remark, lifting my head from his shoulder.

He grins at me. "You like me this way, don't you?"

"Who says I like you?"

He laughs so loudly that Leo jumps down from the couch, scurrying into my bedroom. "So you just want my body then?" he smirks.

"Ugh," I say, shoving him away from me as he continues laughing. I pick up the remote control and turn on the TV, flipping through the channels until I find something watchable.

Edward groans at my choice in programs. "If you're gonna watch that chick movie, I get to watch the football game tonight."

"When does your brother's team play?"

"Next Monday night. They play the Seahawks, actually."

"I imagine you'll want to watch that."

"Yep," he grins. "And you can't deny that you're curious to see my brother."

"What position does he play?"

"Tight end. Do you know what that means?"

"I do… my—Jacob used to watch a lot of football."

"Will you tell me about him?" he asks softly.

I nod. I haven't talked about Jacob since his death, but maybe I need to. "Not right now… later tonight, maybe."

"After the football game," he suggests, his eyes narrowed.

"Ok," I agree, "After the game."

Edward motions me to come closer. I initially decline, but then I change my mind and let him hold me while we spend the next few hours watching a couple movies on HBO. At 5:30, he steals the remote control and flips the channel to the Thursday night football game.

"We should order pizza for dinner," he says suddenly. "Pizza just goes well with football. Please tell me you have someplace that delivers out here."

"Yeah, there are a few places. A couple local pizza joints, plus Domino's and Pizza Hut."

"Pizza Hut, I think… unless you want something else?"

"No, that's fine," I say, standing up to get my phone. "Is sausage ok?"

"Whatever you want," he answers with a smile.

After placing the order for a dinner box, I add some food to Leo's bowl and rejoin Edward on the couch. "Thanks for feeding Leo for me this morning."

"No problem. He wouldn't stop meowing at me until I did it," he laughs.

"Yeah, he's kind of needy in the mornings."

"It's a boy thing," he replies with a smirk. I roll my eyes.

"I woke up with a headache and went back to sleep," I explain. "I didn't see you when I came out of my bedroom?"

"I went for a walk around the lake."

"It was raining."

"Yeah, but not too hard — I took your dad's hat. I just needed some fresh air."

"I'm sorry for the way I ran out on you last night," I say quietly.

"You scared the shit out of me, you know? I heard the truck start and thought you left. I thought… maybe you were going to turn me in."

"I won't turn you in, Edward, no matter how angry I might get."

"Good to know," he smirks.

When the pizza delivery guy knocks at the door, Edward hides in my bedroom while I answer the door and pay for our dinner. I set up the box on the coffee table while Edward gets our drinks in the kitchen.

"You brought beers?" I ask when he returns.

"Beer goes well with pizza," he shrugs.

"Maybe I should get a Pepsi instead," I argue.

"I doubt you'll be trying to rip my clothes off after only one beer," he smirks.

Sighing, I give up and take the beer. Edward and I watch the football game as we stuff ourselves on pizza, breadsticks and cinnamon sticks. He eventually gets up for a second beer, but I decline.

"Walmart sells beer, don't they?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Good — get some more tomorrow. There are only three bottles left."

I narrow my eyes at him and he laughs. "Yeah, I'm bossy." I raise my eyebrow and continue to stare at him until he finally adds a soft, "Please."

During halftime, he gets up, grabbing a pad of paper from my desk.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Making up a list for your grocery shopping tomorrow. I have some ideas for meals to cook."

When the game is over, Edward turns off the TV, turning to me. "Will you tell me about your husband now?"

"What do you want to know?" I stall.

"Just… whatever you want to tell me. What did he look like?" he asks.

Swallowing hard, I stand up, walking into my bedroom. I open my trunk and pull out the album with my wedding photos. I set it on Edward's lap when I return, sitting down beside him. "My wedding album," I whisper. "You go ahead… I don't think I can look." I pull my feet up, burying my face in my knees again.

I hear Edward flipping through the pages, but he isn't saying anything. I can't help wondering what he's thinking.

"You looked beautiful, Bella," he says quietly, breaking the tense silence. "You looked so happy, smiling… there was this light in your eyes. It makes me sad that the light is gone."

"I told you a piece of me died that day along with my husband."

"I'm making it my mission to see that light again," he insists.

"Your mission should be to prove your innocence," I counter.

"Ok, fine, that's my first priority and you're my second."

Edward flips through the album silently for a few more minutes before he speaks again. "When was your wedding?"

"August 7, 2006."

"Who's the midget bridesmaid?" he asks, chuckling.

"That's my friend Alice. She's not a midget — she's about five-foot tall."

"Alice that called a few days ago?"

"Yeah."

"Will you look at one photo? Jacob isn't in it." I peek out at the page Edward is showing me. "Are these your parents with you?" I nod.

"Your dad looks like a cop, like he'd shoot me on sight."

"Jacob looks really tall," he remarks a few minutes later.

"He was — six-foot-five."

"Is he… Latino or something? His skin is so much darker than yours."

I shake my head. "No. Native American."

"How did you meet him?"

I lift my head, staring straight ahead. "Jacob grew up on the Quileute Indian reservation near Forks, a town called LaPush. His dad, Billy Black, and my dad were best friends. Jacob and I used to make mud pies together when we were little," I remember.

"I was a junior in high school when my mom got remarried and I moved back to Forks to live with my dad. Jacob and I became best friends and then high school sweethearts. We both went to U-Dub then got married after seven years together."

"What did Jacob do? For a living, I mean," he clarifies.

"He was a lawyer."

"Really?" he asks, sounding shocked.

"Corporate law," I explain, "Not criminal law."

"We had a perfect life," I continue. "A nice house in the suburbs, two nice cars. Jacob was on the fast track to partner at his firm, and I worked at a small veterinary hospital with Alice's husband, Jasper.

"And then one night it was all gone," I whisper, trying to hold back my sobs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward snap the photo album closed. He sets it on the coffee table, then pulls me against him, holding me while I cry. When I can't get close enough, he lifts me until I'm sitting sideways on his lap.

"There's more, isn't there?" he says quietly. "Your grief is just… far beyond what's normal for someone who lost a spouse."

"Who are you to say what's normal?" I growl, punching at his shoulder.

"Relax… relax. I don't mean it in a bad way — I just think there's more to the story. But you don't have to tell me now."

"Thank you," I whisper. I am not ready to deal with any more tonight.

Edward holds me close, stroking my hair gently while I relax into his embrace. I wouldn't have imagined that the man in orange who burst through my door a week ago could be so tender. Was it only a week ago?

"Can we talk about last night, Bella?" he says suddenly.

"There's nothing to talk about," I shrug.

"You're a… you're a widow, so there's nothing wrong with you kissing another man. You don't have to feel guilty about it."

"I'm not," I protest. _Such a liar, Bella._

"Yes, you _are_."

"It just feels like… Jacob lost his life, and I'm disrespecting him in some way if I move on," I explain.

"That's silly," he scoffs. "You promised to love him until death do you part and all that. It's been almost three years; no one would blame you for moving on."

"_I_ blame me," I reply quietly.

"Was that your first kiss since he died?"

"Of course it was."

"I'm flattered," he chuckles.

"God, you're such an ass sometimes," I growl, punching him again and sitting up straighter.

"Bella," he begins, touching my face gently with his left hand, "Can I kiss you again?"

As I stare at him, he begins tracing his index finger over my face, over my lips. The way he is looking at me is so intense.

I want to say yes. I really, really want to say yes. But what does that mean for us? We'll never have more than one night before he gets bored. I know this deep in my gut.

"Shhhh…" he soothes, moving to stroke my cheek again. "I see the panic in your eyes. I'm not asking for more… just a kiss, that's all."

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, my eyes closed. And then I nod.

His kiss is like the touch of a feather. It's over almost before it begins. I open my eyes to see his beautiful green eyes gazing into mine. A small smile appears on his lips. "Not so scary, right?" he grins.

I shake my head. "I'm not afraid of you."

He grins wider, moving in to kiss me again, catching me off guard. We continue to trade small kisses until Leo makes his presence known, jumping up onto my lap.

"Did you want a kiss, too?" I laugh, hugging him close to me. Still holding my cat, I stand up from Edward's lap, sitting a foot or so away.

"I'll be right back," he says, placing a kiss on top of my head. He returns moments later with another beer — of course.

I narrow my eyes at him and he laughs. "Are you ever gonna tell me your problem with alcohol? You're not Mormon, are you?"

"No, I'm not Mormon. It's… it's irrational," I reply. "Please… I can't…"

"Ok," he smiles, reaching out to stroke my cheek again before grabbing the remote control. I smile back, burrowing into Edward's side. This feels so _domestic_, but somehow it just feels right.

* * *

**A/N: **As Edward figured out, there's more to Bella's story than she's ready to talk about yet.

Anyone up for a trip to Olympia?


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

If you missed Chapter 8 last week when FF was acting up with alerts, go read it first!

Let's see what Edward has planned for Olympia.

* * *

_Friday, September 21, 2012_

The shrill screech of my alarm clock wakes me from a deep sleep. I blindly reach over to the clock and turn it off. I want to go back to bed, but I really do need to get up and get ready for the day before Mrs. Cope shows up.

I grab some clothes, tiptoeing into the living room. Edward is still asleep so I quietly make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower. By the time I'm ready, it's 8:45.

Edward is _still_ asleep, so I reluctantly shake his bare shoulder to wake him up. "Edward. Wake up, Edward."

He opens those gorgeous green eyes, blinking at me a few times as he wakes. "Did you need me to come warm you up in bed?" he asks with a smirk.

"Ugh," I growl, shoving him. "I need you to get up and get your things out of the living room. We have about 15 minutes before Mrs. Cope shows up, and she'll come to the front door to get me if I'm not outside fast enough."

Edward sits up slowly, stretching and popping his back. I kind of feel bad about him sleeping on my couch every night, but not bad enough to trade places with him — or let him sleep with me. As the blanket falls, I try to avert my eyes from his colorful, naked chest.

Standing, he scratches absently at his stomach and then… lower. "Gross," I gag, turning around, Edward's loud chuckles behind me making me even more disgusted with him.

As he steps into the bathroom, I call out, "Don't shower now — you might not be out in time. Wait until I leave."

_This should be Edward's responsibility_, I grumble to myself as I fold up his blanket, taking both the blanket and pillow into my bedroom, where I leave them on top of the trunk.

"Did you want me to make breakfast?" Edward asks as he emerges from the bathroom, clad only in his boxers.

"I was planning to just grab a granola bar," I reply. "We've used up the eggs and milk, remember?"

"Oh yeah, can't even have cereal."

"You can eat it dry," I tell him, laughing at his appalled face.

"Take what you need from your bag," I direct, handing him the two plastic bags filled with his meager supply of clothes. "I need to hide this in the bedroom." Once Edward chooses his clothes, he stashes them in the bathroom while I add the bags to the pile on the trunk.

"I put the grocery list in the side of your purse, ok?" he says as we eat a couple of granola bars at the kitchen table.

"All right," I nod. "I'll try to find everything."

"And a baseball cap for today, right?"

"You're still set on going to Olympia today?"

"Yeah," he replies. "I told you I was gonna show you how to have fun."

Just then, Mrs. Cope knocks at the door.

"Quick," I whisper, "Go hide in the bathroom."

I hurriedly throw both wrappers in the trash and take a deep breath as I make my way to the front door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cope," I say with a smile. "Let me just get my jacket and purse."

I lock up the front door and we walk out to her Buick. "How are you today, dear?" she asks.

"I'm good," I answer. And for once I really think I am.

"Did you hear they still haven't caught that escaped convict?"

"Yeah, I, um, have been following the story in the newspaper online."

"I hope they catch him soon, before he can hurt someone else." I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from shouting that Edward hasn't hurt _anyone_.

Once we arrive at the Walmart, we go our separate ways, as usual. I first head to the men's clothing area to find Edward's baseball cap. I decide on a Seahawks hat to match his hoodie. He didn't ask for them, but I also pick up a couple long-sleeved thermal shirts, in case he thinks it's too warm for a sweatshirt. I'm conscious that he needs to keep those identifiable tattoos covered if we're in public.

I shake my head as I look over the long list of grocery items Edward wrote out for me. I'm not even sure I know what some of that stuff is. I laugh when I reach the bottom of the list, where he's written "BEER" in large capital letters. I grab three more six-packs of Sam Adams for him. Hopefully that'll be enough for the week, since I don't plan to drink any more of it.

I freeze as my last thought rattles around in my brain. I'm planning on Edward sticking around for another week. Exactly how long am I planning on keeping him?

Once I've paid for everything, I stop by the ATM in the customer service area and take out $200 in cash. I don't really want to use my credit card for anything he has planned for today.

"Wow, you bought a lot of stuff," Mrs. Cope notes as I load my bags into the trunk of her car. The young man at the checkout put each of the six-packs into a separate bag, which I try to hide from Mrs. Cope's prying eyes — she can be a little nosy.

"Would you like me to help you with your bags?" she asks as she parks the Buick in front of my house.

"Oh no, no thank you," I quickly reply. I have no idea if Edward is paying attention inside and heard the car pull up.

Carrying as many bags as I can, I leave them on the front porch then go back for more until I've got everything. "Thanks again, Mrs. Cope," I call to her. I wait until she waves and backs out before I dig out my key and unlock the door.

"Edward?" I call tentatively once I've carried the first few bags inside. I find him in the kitchen, digging around in the cupboard that functions as my pantry. "What are you doing?" I ask, setting the bags down on the counter.

"Organizing your pantry," he replies, like it's obvious.

"Well, come help me carry all these bags in. Your damn beer is heavy."

Laughing, he follows me to the porch, easily picking up all three bags with his beer. I try not to stare at the way the muscles in his biceps bulge under the short sleeves of his t-shirt. "You think this is enough?" he asks.

"It's 18 bottles — that should be plenty for just you." I don't miss the way Edward narrows his eyes at me.

I toss the bag with his clothes onto the couch, then start putting away all of the frozen or refrigerated items while he stocks the pantry. "Did you find everything on the list?" he asks.

"Yeah, I did, but I had to ask for help with a couple of them."

"Thanks for the beer," he says with a smile, shocking me with a small kiss on the side of my mouth.

"Um… you're welcome. Let me show you what else I got you." Edward follows me into the living room, where I pull the hat out of the bag and present it to him.

"Nice, Seahawks again."

"You didn't ask for these, but I thought you might get tired of the hoodie," I say as I hand him the two shirts.

"Oh, thanks. You didn't have to do this, Bella."

I shrug, a little embarrassed. "So what have you been doing all morning?"

"You mean after my shower?" he asks with a lascivious grin. Ugh, I do not want to even think about what he was doing in the shower while I wasn't here.

When I don't bite, he continues, "I fed Leo and then did some research."

"Research on what?"

"Olympia. I know exactly where we're going. Will Leo be ok if we don't come back tonight?"

"What!?" He wants me to go on an overnight trip with him?

"Well, I was planning on being far too toasted to drive tonight. Unless you plan on driving home."

I'm lucky that I'm standing right next to the couch, because I have to reach out and touch it for support as I feel my knees buckle. There is no way, absolutely no way, that I can drive home tonight if Edward is too drunk.

I don't realize I'm breathing heavily until I feel Edward's hands around my arms. "Bella? Are you all right?"

"Sit down," he directs when I am unable to reply.

I bury my head in my hands and try hard to control my breathing. I feel Edward's hand stroking softly through my hair and finally open my eyes to find his green ones staring intently into mine.

"Where did you go?" he asks softly.

"I can't drive us home," I manage to say.

"Ok. Can we put out enough food to keep your cat happy until morning then?"

Bless him for not dwelling on what just happened.

"Are you sure about this Edward? Isn't it too dangerous?"

"Why would it be worse than being there during the day? We'll be asleep in a hotel room, safe from anyone else seeing us."

"But there will be a record at the hotel that I'm there," I worry.

"Pay with cash if it bugs you so much, but I don't see why anyone should think it's strange that you're taking an overnight trip. People do that, you know."

Maybe he's right? Maybe staying overnight isn't any worse than being in Olympia at all. If I'm honest with myself, the idea of having a fun day with Edward is pretty appealing. I nod slowly, almost wanting to smile at the huge grin that breaks out on his face.

"Go pack an overnight bag then," he says giddily. "Let's get going! I know exactly where we're having lunch."

With a sigh, I stand up and walk into my bedroom. I find my smallest suitcase in the closet and throw in some pajamas for tonight and clothes for tomorrow, then head into the bathroom for the bare necessities.

"You know they have shampoo in hotels," Edward says with a grin as he adds the razor to the plastic bag with his things.

"I like my own brand."

In the kitchen, I measure out tonight's meal for Leo then attempt to have a talk with my cat. "Ok, Leo, this is for tonight. If you eat this now, you're going to starve until tomorrow morning," I explain, petting his soft fur.

"I don't think he understands you," Edward laughs.

"You never know," I say lightly. "He's pretty smart."

"Are you ready to go?" he asks impatiently. I look up at him and nearly choke at the way one of the new shirts I bought fits so nicely over his chest.

"Um, yeah, I think so. It's just, Leo has never been left alone overnight before. I haven't spent a night away from here since I moved in."

Edward's eyes widen. "Well, it's about time then."

"Can you get me the gun?" he asks as I put my coat on.

"The _gun_? You can't walk around Olympia with a gun. No, Edward — if it's that dangerous, we're not going."

Edward narrows his eyes, but finally nods. He takes my bag along with his, and once I've locked up, I hand him my keys. The truck has a small area behind the seats where he stores our bags.

"Do you know how to get there?" I ask.

"Sure. I printed out some directions to everything while you were gone," he replies, fiddling with the radio. "Does this thing work?"

"You're kidding, right? The radio hasn't worked in at least two decades. Besides, you need to pay attention to the roads. They're narrow and winding out here."

"You don't have panic attacks just from riding in cars, do you?" he asks with a worried expression.

"Not… not anymore."

We spend most of the drive in silence, me staring out the window while Edward watches the road. After about 45 minutes, we're on the outskirts of Olympia as State Route 8 merges with the 101.

"Where are we going?" I ask curiously.

"Downtown. Have you been to Olympia before?"

"Just once. I, um, visited with Jacob once when he came to see the Washington Supreme Court."

"Well, I don't think I'm going to be setting foot inside a courthouse today," he snorts.

"No, I imagine not."

"I was 13 or 14 when I stopped in Olympia with my parents," he explains. "We were driving down to Portland to see Mom's brother and his family. There was this little place right near the water, near the port, where we stopped for lunch. Dad is originally from Boston and he said this place had the best clam chowder he'd ever had outside of New England."

"So that's where you're taking me?"

"Yep," he smiles, exiting the 5 toward downtown. The downtown streets are pretty busy for late morning on a Friday, as he navigates the one-way streets heading north.

"Here we are," Edward announces, pulling into a parking lot close to the West Bay. He puts on his new baseball cap before climbing out of the truck cab. We lock the doors then walk inside the restaurant, his hand on the small of my back. It feels oddly comfortable there.

The young female hostess eyes Edward like he's a piece of top sirloin. I try not to be jealous of the way he flirts with her as she leads us to a table by the windows.

"I wish it was warm enough that we could eat outside on the patio," he complains once the hostess leaves us alone.

"What?" he asks innocently when I don't reply. "What's wrong?"

"It's rude," I mutter, irritated.

"What is?"

"Flirting with her while you're here with me."

"Am I here _with you_? I thought we were just here together. But if this is a _date_, then I won't flirt with any other women as long as you promise to hold up your end of the bargain later."

"What does that even mean?" I think he's just teasing, but he's not smiling, so I can't be sure. He doesn't really expect me to… _put out_ or something tonight, does he?

"You're pretty smart, Bella. You'll figure it out," he smirks. Ok, so he is teasing, thank God.

"Ugh — fine, flirt with whoever you want, I don't care," I grumble, though I'm secretly pleased when a _waiter_ comes to our table to take our drink orders.

"Now _that_ is rude," he says as the man walks away.

"What are you talking about?"

"He was looking at you like you're something to eat."

"He — no, he wasn't."

"Um, yes, he was."

I narrow my eyes at Edward, then go back to reading my menu. When the waiter returns with our drinks, I order the clam and corn chowder trio with Caesar salad and flatbread. Edward orders the clam chowder and Alaskan lingcod sandwich.

"What do you have planned for after lunch?" I ask, taking a sip of my Diet Pepsi.

"You'll see," he smirks. Of course Edward ordered a beer with his lunch.

Our food is delicious — Edward was right about the clam chowder, even if it has been around 10 years since he last ate here.

"Can I get you anything else?" our waiter asks, returning when we're about halfway through with our meals.

"Another beer?"

"Ed—" I stop myself from using his name in public, putting my hand on his arm and giving him a warning look instead.

"Um, just some more water, please," he amends. "What's your problem?" he asks once the waiter walks away.

"We still have to drive, don't we?"

"Yeah, but not far — it's about three blocks to the hotel," he replies. "I would've been fine, Bella," he says, stroking my cheek lightly.

Once we're finished, I pay the bill with cash then head outside with Edward. "Where to now?" I ask.

"There's a viewing tower just up here," he says, pointing toward the water. "You can watch ships coming into port."

After visiting the viewing tower, we are heading back to the car when I spot a sign for a farmers market up ahead and drag Edward over there.

"We probably can't buy anything that needs to be refrigerated, you know. I'm not sure if the room will have a fridge."

"I know," I reply, "But we can look at the other stuff."

"I bet you were the type who liked to go to Pike Place Market up in Seattle."

"Yeah, I was," I say with a small smile. I don't like thinking of the person I used to be.

The Olympia Farmers Market is huge and we spend over an hour walking around to all of the tables. I do buy several things, though nothing perishable.

"You're smiling," Edward notes as we leave. "I don't see that very often. It almost makes the last hour worth it."

"Almost?" He shrugs in response, smirking.

I add my purchases to the storage area then hop into the car. Sure enough, it's only about three blocks until Edward stops again in front of the Phoenix Inn Suites. "Here ok?" he asks.

I nod, hopping out of the truck. "I'll ask if they have a room ready so we can leave our things here."

I walk inside the hotel, idly wondering if Edward is just going to drive away with my truck and leave me here.

"Do you have a room available for tonight?" I ask the young woman behind the desk. "Um, with two beds."

"Yes, I do," she replies with a polite smile. "Credit card?"

Crap. I'd really prefer to pay with cash. "Is cash ok?"

"If you pay in advance."

"That's fine," I nod.

"Do you have a car?" she asks.

I nod.

"Write the license plate number on here, along with your name and other information," she says, handing me a small piece of paper. "Your total with tax is at the bottom."

"Why do you need my license plate?" I ask.

"We regularly check the parking lot to make sure all of the cars there belong to guests," she explains.

"Oh… all right." Damn — I guess there's no way around that one. I write down a fake name and address though. "Is the room available now? I know it's not quite check-in time yet."

"Yes, I do have something available now," she replies, handing me a small envelope with two key cards once I've paid for the room. "Your room number is on there. It's just down that hallway to the right."

"Thanks," I smile, walking outside to where Edward is waiting for me. Once he has parked the car, we gather our bags and head inside to our room.

"No king-sized bed?" he asks as I open the door to the room and walk inside.

I shrug innocently. "This is what she gave me."

Outside, we walk several blocks through the rare sunshine until we reach a small movie theater. "No blockbusters here, but it's the only theater I could find in the downtown area," Edward says, almost apologetically.

"It's fine. I haven't seen a movie in ages."

We purchase tickets for a movie about a billionaire riding in a limo across Manhattan, then take our seats. I'm a little worried about sitting in a darkened theater with Edward, but he behaves himself completely, much to my surprise.

I enjoy the movie, and the male lead is incredibly hot, but I'm not so sure about Edward's impressions.

"Did you like it?" I ask as we walk out.

He shrugs. "The lead actress was hot at least."

I may have been thinking something similar, but nevertheless, his attitude irks me. "Oh my God, is that all you think about? Women and beer?"

"You forgot weed," he smirks. I just shake my head.

We wander back down toward the water and another viewing tower by the Capitol Lake Dam. "I think the courthouse is down there," I say, pointing toward the south.

"This is as close as I'm getting to the courthouse. You can go, if you want."

"No, no, that's ok."

Heading east from the tower, Edward is walking purposefully, as if he has a destination in mind. Several blocks later, we arrive at the Fish Tale Brewpub. "I figured we could get dinner here and start out our night. They're supposed to have some great microbrews. Too bad we've missed happy hour," he complains.

Once we're seated, Edward orders a beer while I just get another Diet Pepsi. "You are not drinking pop all night," he says.

"We'll see," I reply quietly. "You know, you're lucky no one is asking for your ID."

He shrugs. "That's why I didn't shave today. And being with an older woman probably helps," he adds with a smirk, laughing when I punch his arm.

I decide on fish tacos for dinner, while Edward orders fish and chips — and another beer.

"Are you planning to pace yourself?"

"Nope," he smirks. "Can she get the apple cider?" he asks our waitress, who nods.

"Edward," I whisper, once she walks away.

"You're going to have fun tonight, Bella." And he doesn't sound like he's kidding around.

After a couple more drinks at the pub, we walk outside, where it's grown dark. "There's another bar with pool tables and live music just a couple blocks from the hotel," he says.

"This place looks like a total dive," I complain as we step inside the dark bar. I can barely see my hand in front of my face.

"Just the way I like 'em," Edward smirks, stepping up to the bar. Once he'd ordered each of us a beer, I reach into my purse to pay for them, noticing that my cash is dwindling quickly. I didn't expect to be paying for a hotel room when I visited the ATM this morning.

"Why don't you use a credit card?" Edward asks as I pull out a ten-dollar bill. "That way we can just start a tab."

"But—"

"It's not unusual for an adult to go to a bar, Bella."

With a sigh, I put the cash back in my wallet and give the bartender a credit card, then Edward leads me to the pool tables.

"I'm not very good at pool."

"I'll teach you," he replies confidently.

Setting our beers down, Edward first shows me how to hold the pool cue, until he's finally satisfied that I'm doing it correctly. He puts his arms around me from behind as he shows me how to line up shots on the table. I can't help remembering the night we danced together and how good his arms felt.

Despite Edward's best efforts, I'm officially terrible, losing by an embarrassing margin. To his credit, he doesn't gloat, instead telling me I'll do better next time. As he continues ordering beers for the two of us, my pool playing only worsens, however.

"Edward," I whine, "I'm awful at this, can't we do something else?"

Just then, the music stops and a man steps onto the stage, announcing the live band for the night. With a huge grin on his face, Edward pulls me away from the pool tables to a small dance floor.

"Dancing wasn't really what I had in mind," I complain.

"Hush, you did just fine at your house. Now let's see your moves in public."

Edward and I dance — and drink — throughout the band's two 60-minute sets. I have to admit — it's fun to just let go for a while and not think about anything but _right now_. I find myself really wanting to run my fingers through his hair as we dance close together, but he's still wearing the Seahawks cap.

I expect the night to be over when the band leaves the stage, but instead a DJ starts cranking out dance tunes with a pounding bass. Buoyed by the alcohol, I don't complain when Edward starts grinding against me. He's not doing anything that I don't see countless other couples doing, I tell myself. This is perfectly fine.

I'm tired and sweating when Edward drags me over to the bar, ordering us two more beers.

"You're so much more fun when you're drunk," he says, running the tips of his fingers underneath my sweater. "I wish you'd take this off."

"I can't — I'm not wearing anything underneath."

"All the more reason to take it off," he smirks.

"I think that's illegal," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

"We could go back to the hotel then…" he suggests, staring intently at me.

I look away when I start to get uncomfortable, grateful that the bartender has set our new beers on the bar top. "Let's close out the tab," Edward whispers, his breaths warm against my ear. I nod as if in a trance, calling out to the bartender. He rings up the bill on the credit card I'd left with him earlier and I blindly sign the receipt, not even wanting to know how much I spent tonight, then leave some bills on the bar top as his tip.

Once the check is taken care of, Edward leads me away from the bar and back to the dance floor, holding me as close as he can with a beer in one hand. Eventually he finishes his beer, taking me in both arms. I tremble as he leans in close.

"Bella," he whispers. Oh God. With that silky voice, I'd do pretty much anything he asked. "Hand me your bottle."

That is _so_ not what I expected. I do what he says anyway, watching him empty the bottle in one long chug, belching and smirking when he's finished.

"You're such a pig."

He laughs, setting the bottle down and pulling me close again. "I needed both of your hands free," he explains.

"For—for what?" I ask nervously.

"So you can wrap them around me, silly girl," he replies. God, there's that voice again.

"Wrap them…"

"Bella," he interrupts, "Shut up."

And then his lips are on mine. This isn't like the gentle kisses we shared the last two nights. His lips are demanding, moving with purpose, his tongue claiming my mouth when I open it in surprise. I'm torn between shock at his boldness and blind lust as I begin to move my lips under his. Edward Cullen is a very, very good kisser.

"Let's get out of here, Bella," he whispers.

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, sorry about the cliffhanger! Each chapter is a day, and, well... it's after midnight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

To the Guest reviewer who thinks Edward is despicable — you might want to stop reading now.

* * *

_Saturday, September 22, 2012_

_"Let's get out of here, Bella," he whispers._

Edward takes me by the hand, leading me through the still-crowded bar. Outside, the cold air hits me in the face, and I remember that I left my coat in our hotel room earlier.

One arm around my waist, Edward cups the back of my head with his free hand, pulling my mouth to his. I respond eagerly, wanting more and more of him. I don't care if it'll just be one night — I want this. I need it.

Suddenly he pulls away, his eyes dark and hooded. "Come on," he urges, pulling me along the sidewalk. When we have to stop at a traffic light at the second intersection, he kisses me again, his lips soft yet needy, full of promise.

"Oh, thank God," he groans as we finally reach the hotel.

"Behave yourself in the lobby," I warn. The last thing we need is for the hotel employees to have a reason to remember us.

He laughs, giving me that trademark smirk. "You think that'll keep them from knowing what I plan to do to you?" Oh my God, I can feel myself getting turned on just from his words.

Despite his bravado, he does behave, his hand wrapped around mine the only part of his body touching me as we walk through the hotel lobby. His head is down, staring at the floor, as if he's afraid there's a security camera, or that the late night clerk will recognize him.

"Hurry up," he whines impatiently as I pull the keycard out of my purse and try to open the door. When I finally get it, he pushes me inside, closing the door behind us. Before I can blink, I'm up against the closet doors, Edward's tongue in my mouth while his arms form a cage around my head.

Going strictly on instinct, I throw my arms around his neck, pulling his head down so I don't have to stretch so far. Without ever leaving my lips, Edward reaches down to grasp my ass, lifting me until I'm more level with him. I wrap my legs around his waist, shocked to feel his arousal _right there_.

"God, yes," he moans, kissing along my jaw and neck as he thrusts his pelvis into mine. I barely register that we're moving until suddenly I'm lying flat on my back on one of the beds.

Edward kneels above me, panting, as he tosses his baseball cap to the side then slowly slips his hands under my sweater and begins pushing up. When he gets it up over my breasts, I lift my arms so he can pull it over my head. I hardly notice him tossing it to the floor before his mouth descends on mine again.

I shudder as I feel Edward's fingers gliding along my bare stomach. No man has touched me there since Jacob, but shockingly, it doesn't feel strange. I gasp as he suddenly yanks one of my bra cups down and pulls my nipple into his mouth. With his left hand, he massages my other breast, tweaking the nipple, before pulling that cup down too and switching sides.

I close my eyes, just enjoying the feel of his mouth and hands on me. When he stops suddenly, I blink them open, watching as Edward pulls his shirt over his head before coming back to re-claim my mouth. I have to stop myself from crying out at the feel of his hard chest sliding against my sensitive nipples.

"Want you," he mumbles, just before I feel him opening the zipper on my jeans. I look down, quickly noticing that Edward has already opened his own fly, though he's still wearing his jeans. With the only light coming from near the door, I can barely make out the head of his erection sticking out of the top of his boxers.

Suddenly Edward thrusts his hand into my panties, moving down until his fingers are touching where I know I'm wet for hm. Oh my God, what the hell are we doing? As much as my body wants him, my head has to put a stop to this before we make a very, very big mistake.

"Edward," I whisper urgently.

"So wet," he moans. "The things I'm gonna do to you…"

"Edward, st—" His lips cover mine, drowning out my words, as his finger dips inside me. God, maybe I should just…

In a flash, he's up on his haunches, tugging my jeans down.

"Edward, we need to stop!"

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" he exclaims, his hands stilling.

"We can't have sex, Edward! We don't — we don't have a condom."

"I'm clean, I swear to God," he says urgently. "I always use condoms, and I was tested for everything when I first went to prison."

"But, Edward — I'm not on any birth control. We can't do this."

Edward stares at me, still kneeling between my legs. Finally with one large groan, he throws himself onto his back next to me, one arm covering his eyes.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Edward," I apologize quietly. "I wasn't thinking when I let things get so far out of hand."

When he doesn't reply, I pull my jeans up and look down, noticing the tent in his boxers sticking through the open fly of his jeans. "I could… I could still help you with that," I add bravely, my hand reaching for him.

"Are you kidding?" he replies bitterly. "I haven't had a handjob since I was 14."

Oh. Ok. I lie back down, pulling my bra cups back up to cover my breasts. I gaze unseeingly at the ceiling, almost mimicking his posture. How could I have gotten so carried away? Of course Edward is used to bar sluts who are all on the Pill. I should've stopped this before we even got to the room.

After a few minutes, Edward groans and sits up, swinging his legs off the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a cold shower," he replies flatly.

Once the bathroom door slams shut, I climb off the bed, digging into my suitcase for my pajamas. I lie there under the covers, tears full of shame and embarrassment falling until Edward finally comes out of the bathroom. Instead of getting into bed next to me, he pulls back the covers to the other bed and crawls inside.

I listen until Edward's breathing turns to light snores before I get up again to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

I want to climb into bed with him, want to feel his strong arms around me, letting me know that it's ok that I put the brakes on tonight. But I don't.

* * *

The first thing I notice when I open my eyes is the pounding behind my eyeballs. The second thing I notice is the quiet.

I slowly turn my head toward Edward's bed, finding it empty, with the covers a mess. I look toward the bathroom, but the door is wide open, the lights off inside.

Where the hell is he? He didn't… leave me here, did he?

My bladder finally forces me to get out of bed. Once I use the bathroom, I dig around in my purse for my small bottle of medication, quickly downing two Advil.

I'm pulling fresh clothes from my suitcase when the door opens and Edward walks inside. I just catch that he's wearing his Seahawks hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head before I quickly stare at the floor, avoiding his accusing eyes.

"I thought you left me here," I whisper.

"What? Just stole your truck and took off?"

I nod slowly, trying not to scream at what the slight movement has done to my headache.

"We missed the continental breakfast, so I found a bakery," he explains. "Go take your shower and we can eat, then get out of here. Checkout time is in about an hour."

Still not looking at him, I stand, carrying my clothes into the bathroom and locking the door behind me. I feel marginally better after I shower and brush my teeth.

When I come out, Edward is seated at the small round table, with a bag of baked goods spread out on top. I take my seat and pick up one of the sweet rolls.

"I took a twenty from your purse," he says suddenly. "That's it — you can count them if you don't believe me."

"I believe you," I whisper. Fuck, I think I actually offended him by thinking the worst. He's more sensitive than he wants people to know.

We finish eating in silence before I go back into the bathroom to quickly blow dry my hair and pick up the rest of my toiletries, tossing them into my overnight bag.

"Ready?" he asks. "I took the bags with the stuff from the farmers market out to the car already."

I nod, picking up the keycard from the table on my way out the door. Edward carries both of our bags, heading out to the truck while I check out.

When I step outside, I'm startled by how much colder the air is than this time yesterday. I'm glad for my coat today. I climb into the truck cab silently before Edward starts up the vehicle and pulls out of the hotel lot. There is an awkward silence as we drive through the downtown streets, much quieter on a Saturday morning than they were when we arrived.

"Can you eat again?" Edward asks suddenly once we get out of downtown.

"It hasn't even been an hour since breakfast."

"I know, but you look pretty hungover. Greasy food is always good for a hangover — trust me."

"Um, ok."

Edward exits the 101 onto Black Lake Boulevard. "The sign said there's a mall up ahead — maybe they have something greasy."

He drives around the mall, passing by several restaurants before finally settling on a Red Robin. "Edward, there's no way I can eat a huge burger right now," I tell him as I climb out of the truck cab.

"We can split one or something," he shrugs.

Once we're seated, Edward orders two root beer floats then begins looking over the menu. "Do you like blue cheese?" he asks.

I nod, rubbing at my aching head.

"Did you take something for that?" he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear in a shockingly tender gesture.

"Yeah, I took two Advil before you came back."

"Could we get the bleu ribbon burger and towering onion rings?" Edward orders when the waitress returns with our drinks.

"Why root beer floats?" I ask curiously, taking a sip. I don't think I've had one of these since I was a teenager.

"They make me feel better when I'm hungover."

"Why aren't you in agony like I am?" I grouse.

"Because we didn't drink all that much, Bella. I can handle my alcohol."

Once our food arrives, Edward hands me an onion ring then cuts the huge burger in half. "Eat that," he commands. "I'm telling you the grease will help."

Edward finishes my half of the burger when I'm unable to, though he forces me to eat the last two humongous onion rings.

After I pay the bill, we set off again for Aberdeen.

"Take a nap or something," he says, looking over at me. "You look exhausted."

"I don't think I could sleep while we're driving," I reply quietly.

I breathe a sigh of relief after we make the turn-off from the Olympic Highway toward my house about 50 minutes later. Edward is somehow able to carry all of the bags while I unlock the front door.

"Hey there," I laugh as Leo accosts me, rubbing against my leg and meowing loudly, almost as soon as I'm inside the house. "Someone is hungry, huh?"

I quickly feed Leo then begin putting away the food I bought at the Olympia Farmers Market. When I walk back into the living room, Edward already has the TV on, watching what appears to be college football.

"Um, I'm gonna go lie down for a while."

"Ok. Is it all right if I do laundry?"

"It's fine," I nod. "Do you know how?"

"Yes," he replies, his eyes narrowed. "I'll have dinner ready whenever you want to eat."

"Ugh, do not even mention food to me right now."

He chuckles while I walk into my bedroom, leaving the door open a crack in case Leo wants to join me for my nap.

I'm asleep nearly as soon as my head hits the pillow. As I sleep, I dream of soft hands stroking my hair, stroking down my back. But when I open my eyes, I'm alone — well, except for Leo, who's curled up in a ball against my back, fast asleep.

Rubbing my eyes, I sit up, shocked to see a bottle of water and two Advil on my nightstand. I down the pills then take a large sip of water. So Edward _was_ in my bedroom.

When I step out into the living room, Edward is in his usual spot on the couch, still watching college football.

"How can you watch that all day?" I ask, sitting a respectable distance from him.

He shrugs. "There really isn't anything else on TV on Saturdays."

"What did you make for dinner? It smells good, whatever it is."

"Chili," he answers. "Perfect for a cold night, yeah?"

We sit in silence for a few minutes before I get the courage to speak again. "I'm sorry," I whisper, unable to look at him. "Please don't be angry."

"I'm not," he replies. I look up at him in shock. "Really, I'm not."

"You were angry last night."

"I was frustrated, with blue balls last night. I was angry with the situation — with myself. I wasn't angry with you though — I knew you were right."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me that last night? I couldn't sleep thinking you were angry with me." I am beyond irritated with him.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I was drunk, so I wasn't thinking."

"Not with the head on your shoulders," I mutter under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Why did you move to the other bed?" I ask, ignoring his question.

He shrugs. "I didn't think I'd be able to keep my hands off you if we slept in the same bed."

My eyes widen as I take in what he said. Is he truly attracted to me, or was he just horny?

"We shouldn't drink like that again."

"Do you really think that was just alcohol last night?" he asks curiously.

"No, I don't," I whisper.

I feel Edward's fingers crawling over my hand as he takes it in his, tugging me toward him. Wanting nothing more than to feel his arms around me, I scoot over, laying my head on his shoulder as he holds me tightly.

I feel the briefest of kisses on top of my head before he speaks again. "Are you ready for dinner?"

"Sure, yeah," I agree, sitting up straight.

In the kitchen, I pour us each a drink then sit down at the table while Edward ladles his chili into two bowls. I add some of the shredded cheese he's placed on the table, forgoing the sour cream.

"Not too spicy, is it?" he asks as I swallow my first spoonful.

"No, it's fine."

"Where are the beans?" I ask after a couple more spoonfuls.

"There are no beans in championship chili," he explains.

"Oh."

"Do you miss them?"

"Not really," I shrug. "This is good. What's your secret ingredient?"

"Dark chocolate," he answers.

"I don't taste any chocolate."

"It's not there for taste, more to weaken the effect of the chili powder without sacrificing the flavor."

"Then what am I tasting?"

"Maybe the barbecue sauce?" he suggests.

"Yeah," I agree, "That must be it. Have you thought any more about going to culinary school when this is all over? You're so talented in the kitchen."

"Do you really think it'll ever be all over?"

"I do," I nod. "We — you — have to believe that your lawyer will get you a new trial."

After Edward puts the leftover chili away in the fridge, I help him do the dishes then add a little more food to Leo's bowl.

"Can I try to talk to my mom again?" he asks shyly as we walk back into the living room.

"Yeah, sure," I agree, taking a seat on the couch and trying to find something other than football to watch on TV.

"Oh my God," Edward exclaims a few minutes later. "Mom sent like a dozen messages last night."

"What did she say?" I ask, abandoning the TV and grabbing a chair from the kitchen so I can join him at the PC.

"She says there's news about my case, but she didn't give any details. I'll try to message her back."

**Sunshine: mom?**

His mother's reply comes swiftly.

_DesignsByE: Edward, thank God! I was so worried when you didn't reply last night._

**Sunshine: sorry, not online, what's up?**

_DesignsByE: Angela Weber went to the police yesterday and changed her story. She told the truth, Edward._

Edward gasps, turning to look at me.

**Sunshine: so what does this mean?**

_DesignsByE: Not much yet, I'm afraid. The police don't believe her. They think with you on the loose, you were able to threaten her somehow and convince her to lie._

I snort, "Wow, they really think highly of you."

"It's probably my sparkling personality."

_DesignsByE: Your lawyer is still working on getting a copy of the cell phone records for both you and Angela. Once he's got that, combined with her new story, we should be able to win a new trial. You just need to hang on a little while longer._

"Did Angela say why she lied?" I ask curiously.

**Sunshine: did Angela say why she did it?**

_DesignsByE: The detective I talked to didn't really provide any details, just that they'd taken a new statement from her and she admitted to being involved with you._

"I wonder if her conscience finally got the better of her," I muse.

_DesignsByE: Are you sure you're ok, Edward? Are you staying warm?_

**Sunshine: i'm plenty warm, mom, don't worry**

"It's cute how she worries about you," I chuckle, breaking into a full-blown laugh when Edward glares at me.

_DesignsByE: Please take care of yourself. And I hope you remember to thank whoever is helping you._

**Sunshine: i do have some manners**

_DesignsByE: I hear the garage door, Carlisle is home. I'll talk to you again soon, keep your chin up. I love you, Edward._

**Sunshine: love you too, mom**

"That's great, Edward," I tell him once he signs off the chat program. "You're one step closer. There's no need to contact Jessica now to ask for her help in convincing Angela to tell the truth."

"I can't believe the police don't believe her though," he snorts. "I mean, I would expect them to still find a way to pin it on me even with the truth out there, but to think I somehow _threatened_ her?"

He shakes his head, standing up. "I'm getting a beer — I imagine you don't want one."

"No, thank you."

Edward and I take our seats on the couch, finally finding a movie to watch. I'm grateful when Leo jumps up to join me, since I can use petting him as an excuse to not curl up so close to Edward. I don't really want him to get the impression that I'm avoiding him, but I don't want to start anything physical again that we can't finish, either.

Despite my long nap this afternoon, I'm exhausted by the time the late night news starts. Yawning, I stand up, walking into my bedroom to get dressed for bed, then head to the bathroom for my nightly routine.

When I come out, I don't see Edward in the living room. I walk into the kitchen, but I don't see him in there either.

When I enter my bedroom, I find him — sitting on the floor in front of my open trunk. And in his hands, he's holding…

I fall to my knees, burying my face in my hands as I try to control my breathing.

"Bella!" I hear Edward's panicked voice but I can't speak.

"Bella, you need to calm down, baby." He's touching me now, holding my face in his hands. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut as I try to unsee what he was holding.

"Do you need some water? Will that help you?" The hands on me vanish. I'm hyperventilating now — I cannot get enough air. I feel like I'm going to pass out.

I feel something touch my lips. "Take a sip." I try to do as the voice says, but I start choking. "It's ok, you're ok," the voice soothes, a smooth forehead touching mine.

Something soft and furry is placed in my arms. I squeeze, hoping the ball of fur will make it all stop.

Laughter. "Not so hard, you're going to squash him."

"Try to take another drink, ok?"

I manage to swallow the water properly this time and feel myself starting to calm. When the object in my arms starts squirming, I let up a little, my breaths slowing as long fingers comb through my hair again and again.

Finally my eyes open. Edward reaches out, brushing my tears away with a small smile. "Are you all right?" he whispers.

I shake my head. I am most definitely not all right. "Put it away — I can't look at it."

He does as I ask, closing the trunk lid. Leo jumps out of my arms, running out of the bedroom.

"What were you doing in there?" I ask through my still-panting breaths.

"You'd set my blanket and pillow on top of the trunk. I was looking inside for another blanket, since it's supposed to get pretty cold tonight."

"You could've just started a fire in the fireplace."

"I didn't think of that," he replies sheepishly. "If I had, then I wouldn't know what else you're hiding," he adds, his eyes narrowed. "So, um, you had a baby."

I stare at Edward, begging him with my eyes to drop it. "Where is your baby, Bella?" he asks gently.

"My son," I whisper.

"Ok, where is your son?"

"I think you already know. Please don't make me say it," I beg out loud this time.

He brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. "What was his name?" he asks gently.

"His name?" I repeat, looking at him dumbly. "He… he didn't have one." Oh my God, should I have named him?

"What do you mean, he didn't have a name?"

I stare into Edward's eyes, feeling my breathing start to pick up. "Don't, don't you do that again. Take another drink," he commands, holding the water bottle to my lips. I drink, squeezing my eyes shut again.

"Are you saying you… had a miscarriage?" he asks tentatively. I nod, feeling my tears spill over. He brushes them away again, then leans in, touching my lips gently. My eyes fly open in shock.

"When?" he asks quietly. "I mean, before or after your husband died."

"S—same time," I croak.

"Fuck," he swears. "That's what you meant by losing everything you love in an instant?"

I nod, taking another long drink. When I finish the bottle, Edward takes it from me, setting it on top of the trunk.

"Come on," he says gently, helping me to my feet. Only with his help do I make it to the bed, crawling under the covers, shivering.

"Will you be ok?"

I shake my head. "Please."

"Please what?" he asks with a smile.

"I know you're not a cuddler, but please hold me until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone."

"I'll make you a deal — I'll… cuddle with you," he says, as if the very thought is repugnant, "If you tell me everything tomorrow."

"Deal," I whisper. I'd agree to anything to have strong arms around me right now.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel the bed dip behind me from Edward's weight. He pulls my back to his chest, spooning behind me. "Go to sleep, Bella," he whispers, kissing gently just below my ear.

* * *

**A/N: **So, that ended a bit differently from how it began, eh? Shame on all of you — not one review mentioned the fact that they had no condoms! ;)

Bella can't say or think the words, but I can — Edward found baby clothes.

And what does everyone who was convinced that Angela had something to do with her mother's murder think about her changing her story?


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Most of you were happy that they didn't have sex while drunk, and were a little ticked at drunk Edward's thoughtlessness.

Time for Bella's story...

* * *

_Sunday, September 23, 2012_

The moment I open my eyes, the harsh memory of last night is front and center in my mind. I can't believe I promised Edward that I'd tell him everything. I turn over looking for him, but the other half of the bed is empty — except for the cat.

I take a deep breath, pushing back the covers and standing up. I really need a long shower.

Edward is sitting on the couch, watching football — again. I notice his pillow and blanket bunched up against one arm of the couch.

"Did you sleep out here last night?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"Yeah," he nods. "I wasn't so sure you'd remember asking me to stay in the morning."

"I need a shower. We can talk after, ok?"

He nods again. "Omelet for breakfast?"

"Sounds good."

Once I feel human again, I join Edward in the kitchen. "Almost ready," he calls over his shoulder. I add some food to Leo's bowl before taking my seat.

"Are you feeling ok?" he asks tentatively, setting my plate in front of me.

I nod slowly. "I think that was the worst attack I've had."

"Why did you hang on to the baby clothes if you were gonna react like that?"

I wince, hearing the words spoken aloud. "Same as Jacob's clothes — I couldn't bear to get rid of them." I shrug, taking a bite of my delicious omelet.

"That's where your photo album was, right? How come you didn't freak when you got that out of the trunk for me?"

"I knew where it was," I explain. "I didn't look inside the trunk."

"I'll take care of the dishes," Edward announces when we're finished with our breakfast. "Go wait for me in the living room. And I think Leo wants you to apologize for almost squeezing him to death last night," he adds with a chuckle. "I already told him I was sorry for handing him to you."

"Don't be. It really did help, like I had something holding me down to this earth. Sorry I can't explain it well."

I fiddle with the remote control once I sit down on the couch, but I know Edward won't let me get away with changing the channel. Leo jumps up onto my lap, and I pet him gently, letting him know how much I appreciate his "sacrifice" last night.

After a few minutes, Edward claims his usual corner of the couch, motioning me to come closer. When I reach him, he pulls me into his muscular chest, rubbing up and down my arm.

"Just relax, Bella. Watch the game with me for a while. It's just starting."

"I thought you were watching football when I first woke up?" I ask, glancing up at him.

He shakes his head. "Pre-game show."

I roll my eyes, but settle in to watch the game with Edward. I'm paying more attention to my cat in my lap and Edward's hands on me than I am the game, though.

When it's halftime, Edward stands up, stretching. "Should I heat up some chili for lunch?"

"Sure," I nod.

Edward practically gulps down his lunch so he can make it back to the living room by the third quarter kick off. I join him later, once I've washed and put away our few dishes.

When the first game is over, Edward flips between a couple channels before turning off the TV. "I don't care about any of the games on right now," he shrugs. "Are you… ready to talk?"

"Not really."

"You promised."

"I know. I'm just not sure I can get through it."

"Have you ever told anyone?"

"The whole story? No," I reply, shaking my head.

"How about if I just ask questions, will that be better?"

"We can try," I whisper.

Edward smiles at me, kissing my lips briefly. "That wasn't just a normal panic attack last night, right?" he begins gently.

"No," I whisper into his neck. "My dad says I have PTSD."

"Are you in therapy?"

I shake my head. "I saw a therapist a couple times right after the accident. My mom forced me into it."

"So… were you actually in the car with Jacob? Or did you… miscarry when you found out about his death?"

"I was in the car," I whisper.

"Were you hurt?" I look up at Edward. "I mean, besides… yeah."

I sit up, moving a little bit away from him. "I had a broken leg, four broken ribs and internal injuries," I recite. "I spent a week in the hospital, and over a month in a wheelchair. It hurt my ribs too much to use crutches."

"How… um, how far along were you in your pregnancy? Did you know for sure it was a boy?"

"Twenty weeks. We'd just found out the sex of the baby that day, at my ultrasound appointment. Jacob was so thrilled that he was going to have a son," I remember, trying to hold back my tears.

"Will you tell me how the accident happened?" he asks quietly, stroking my hair.

This is the part I've been dreading, the part where he finds out exactly how awful I am.

"We went out for dinner that night with Alice and her husband Jasper, to celebrate. It wasn't unusual for us to split a couple bottles of wine at dinner. Of course, I couldn't drink. Jacob stumbled a bit when he stood up, and I remember thinking that he must've had my share of the wine."

"I thought you said he wasn't driving drunk?" Edward interrupts, a hint of anger in his voice.

"He didn't," I insist. "It was cold, icy, light sleet falling. I… I asked him to please let me drive," I whisper.

"Oh my God…"

I bite my lip, trying to hold back my tears. I can't look at him and see the revulsion in his eyes. "We were almost home," I continue. "I changed lanes to take the next exit from the interstate, and the tire slid on a patch of ice. I lost control and then… and then—" I hold back a sob, needing to get this out. "And then the car behind us hit the passenger side of Jake's SUV as we slid sideways."

Edward's strong arms pull me to him, anchoring me as I try to slow my breathing once again. "When I woke up in the hos—hospital," I sob, "My parents told me that my husband and baby were gone. Dead."

"I'm so sorry, Bella," he whispers, pulling me onto his lap so he can hug me tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"It—it's my fault," I sob. "I killed them."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" he growls angrily, stunning me into silence. "You didn't kill them, for God's sake! What you just described to me was a horrible accident!"

"An accident that I caused!"

"An accident that the icy roads caused," he retorts forcefully. "Absolutely no one could possibly blame you for that."

"Jacob's dad did. At the funeral, he told me it was all my fault."

"Then he's an asshole! And he was _wrong_, Bella. You did not kill them."

"You don't understand, Edward," I cry. "No one ever understands."

"That's because what you're saying is ridiculous."

"It's not."

"It _is_."

"My bad karma killed them!"

"What the fuck? Why on earth would _you_ have bad karma? You do realize you're talking nonsense, don't you?"

I shake my head, willing him to understand. I did this. I caused it.

Suddenly, Edward lifts me off his lap and stands, leaving me alone on the couch. He returns less than a minute later with two beers in his hand. "I need this to listen to any more of your ridiculous assertions," he growls, handing the second beer to me. "I don't care if it's still early."

"It's not ridiculous, Edward," I whisper.

"Explain."

I open the bottle of beer, take a sip and then stare at it. I've stalled enough. I have to tell him.

"I got… I got pregnant on purpose."

"So what? Couples plan pregnancies all the time," he replies, his brow furrowed.

"I said _I_ did, not we. I went off my birth control without telling Jake."

"He didn't want kids?"

"He did… one day. After he made partner, he always said. But that was still years away."

"And you didn't want to wait."

"I didn't want to wait five or more years, no. But the, um, exact timing wasn't so much because of my desire to be a mother. I wanted to keep Jake from having an affair."

"The guy was cheating on you?" Edward shouts.

"No, no — at least I don't think so. He denied it, but I saw the way his legal assistant acted with him, and she definitely wanted him. It was only a matter of time before he caved."

"So how was having a baby going to fix things?"

I take a long sip of my beer. "Jake's mom cheated on his dad and eventually left, when he was just a kid. He always said that he'd never do that to his own wife and child."

"So you thought that having a baby would mean he'd never cheat."

I nod. "I was dishonest, but… I thought the ends justified the means. Jake was happy about my pregnancy. Maybe not so much at first, but once he found out we were having a boy, you should've seen the silly grin on his face.

"But then karma decided to take both of them away from me."

Edward sets his beer on the coffee table and then turns to me. "Bella," he says sternly, taking my face in his large hands, "Karma did not do this to you. _You_ did not do this to you. It was an accident, simple as that. It wasn't your fault in any way."

"How can you touch me?" I whisper.

"What?"

"Now that you know how awful I am."

"Did you hear a word I just said? You are not an awful person, Bella."

"But I—"

"No buts," he interrupts. "You didn't kill them. End of story."

"It's not the end, Edward," I cry, shaking my head. "I can't just stop feeling like this because you tell me it's not true."

"Then you need to find a good therapist to help you. You can't go on like this, crushed by your own guilt. It's a shitty way to live, trust me."

"Trust you?"

Edward squeezes his eyes closed, then slowly opens them, a look of resolve on his beautiful face. "Trust me. I know all about misplaced guilt."

Edward takes a deep breath before standing, turning around to face the couch. Suddenly, he grasps the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head.

"This was my first tattoo," he says quietly, pointing at the butterfly near his heart, with the initials and dates beneath it.

"Who was E.A.M.?" I ask curiously.

"Elizabeth Ann Masen. My mother."

"She died the year you were born," I recognize.

"She died the _day_ I was born."

I stare at Edward in shock.

"Complications," he continues. "She had pre… pre-something."

"Preeclampsia?"

"Yeah, that's it," he nods. "For as far back as I can remember, I've known that I'm the one who killed my mother."

"What?! That's ridiculous, Edward. You were just an innocent baby!"

He gives me a pointed look.

"It's not the same thing," I mumble. "I wasn't innocent."

"I was raised by my dad alone," he continues. "He was… sick."

"Sick? Like he had cancer or something?"

"No, mentally sick. He heard voices. The doctors said he was a paranoid schizophrenic. He was fine whenever he was taking his medication. When he wasn't… he pretty much forgot about me."

"Which is why you had to cook your own dinner," I realize.

"Yeah," he nods, "Or else starve. I blamed myself for my dad's mental illness, too. I thought the stress of taking care of me had caused it."

"Edward…"

He takes another deep breath, squeezing his eyes closed. "When I was 11," he whispers, "My dad's voices told him to kill me."

I gasp, staring up at him. I want to reach out and touch him, but he's not close enough.

"He came into my bedroom early one morning and stabbed me three times," he continues, one lone tear falling from his left eye.

I stare at him in shock for several moments before I'm able to speak. "How did… how did you survive? How did you get away?"

"I played dead," he shrugs. "When he left, I crawled out the window. A neighbor found me."

"What happened to your dad?" I whisper.

"He was found not guilty by reason of insanity. Sentenced to a psychiatric hospital. One of the other inmates, residents… whatever they are… killed him about three years ago. When I was in prison."

"Oh Edward…"

"This was my second tattoo," he says, pointing toward a tattoo of the devil taking up much of the right side of his torso. He steps closer to the couch, taking my hand and placing it over the tattoo. I brush my fingers over it lightly, feeling three separate patches of raised skin. I shudder when I realize they're scars from the knife wounds.

"I got it to remind myself that the devil didn't win," he says quietly.

I continue brushing my fingers over the tattoo. I have to force myself to stay still and not lean in to kiss his marred skin. "How did you come to be adopted by the Cullens?"

"Carlisle was my doctor in the hospital," he replies.

"You lucked out with the adoptive parents," I smile.

"Yeah. I did. But I never felt like I deserved that. I didn't deserve great parents. I didn't deserve to go to the best schools."

"Of course you did! You probably deserved it more than most people because of the way you'd suffered."

"I was bad, Bella. I felt like I was evil. I killed my mother, made my dad sick, made my dad want to kill me…"

"No, you didn't!"

"And one day I had a choice between 'fessing up to my mom that I'd been fired and needed help, or finding some other way to pay my rent… And I chose to rob a liquor store. Because I didn't think I was worth any more than that."

"But you seem so… cool with it all now though. You understand your motivations, so you can stop feeling that way."

"Do you think I got this clarity on my own?" he asks angrily. "I had three years of mandatory therapy when I was in prison. It took two years for me to understand _why_ I made so many bad choices and to let go of the misplaced guilt that was holding me back.

"Once I got out of prison, I had a new attitude. I was going to do things on the straight and narrow, make better choices. Well, for the most part," he grins.

"My point is — therapy helped me, Bella. And someone can help you, too. You can't keep living like this!"

Suddenly Edward is on his knees in front of me, his hands on my thighs. "Please, please tell me you'll try to get yourself better. You deserve more than this half-life in the middle of nowhere. Nothing that happened to you is your fault, Bella. Jacob is dead, but _you_ are still alive."

I just stare at him, tears streaming down my face. I'm in awe of him, of the things he's overcome. Is it really possible for me to not be weighed down by my guilt? Can I find the motivation to want to live again?

"Promise me, Bella," he insists, spreading my thighs so he can kneel closer to me, taking my hands.

"I promise," I finally whisper. "I'll get help."

A huge grin breaks across his beautiful face.

"You think your mission is accomplished, don't you?" I try to lighten the somber mood.

"Not yet," he smiles, reaching in to grasp my face gently. He is staring at me so intently that it's beginning to freak me out.

"What are you waiting for?"

"You," he says simply.

I lick my lips, noticing the way his eyes darken. I know what he's waiting for. Without a moment's thought, I lean in and kiss him. I intend for the kiss to be gentle, chaste, but Edward immediately draws my bottom lip in between his.

Suddenly, Edward's hands are around my waist, pulling me off the couch onto my knees in front of him. His lips never stop their relentless assault on mine. I tentatively touch the bare skin of his chest and stomach, feeling the goosebumps that erupt from my touch.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he growls, pushing up at the bottom of my sweater.

I yank it back down. "Edward, we can't! Remember? No birth control."

"What if I told you we have condoms?" he smirks. "Then could I take your clothes off?"

"But we don't!"

"What if we did?"

"Fine," I sigh. "_If_ we had condoms, I'd… let you finish what we started Friday night."

I watch in confusion as Edward jumps to his feet, walking over to the chair where he had stashed his plastic bag full of clothes. He reaches into the bag, pulling something out. He hides it from my sight before walking back to me and kneeling down.

"Is this what you wanted?" he smirks, pulling a box of condoms from behind his back.

My mouth drops open in shock. "Where did you get those?"

"I bought them," he shrugs. "When I went to the bakery Saturday morning."

"Why didn't you tell me? What were you waiting for?"

"I was waiting for this to be your idea, Bella," he replies, drawing one finger down the middle of my chest and biting his lip. "Tell me what you want," he whispers.

I swallow thickly. "I want… to feel your hands all over me. I want to run my tongue over the lines of ink on your skin," I whisper, my fingers tracing the butterfly on his chest. Most of all, I want to feel alive.

"Stand up," he growls, pulling me to my feet. I squeak in surprise, laughing as he drags me to the bedroom.

"Sorry, Leo," he calls, slamming the door behind us. "I'm not into voyeurism."

"You're not?" I ask in surprise. "You'll have sex with a stranger in an alley, but you're squeamish about the cat watching us?"

"It was dark in the alley," he shrugs. "And he has beady little eyes."

Before I can reply, Edward's tongue is in my mouth. He walks me backwards, his hands pawing at the bare skin underneath my sweater. I sit when I feel the back of my legs hit the edge of the bed, crawling backwards up the bed until my head is on the pillow. Edward is kneeling over my thighs, his eyes so, so dark.

"Take your sweater off," he says gruffly. Without a thought, I do what he says. He bends over, undoing the button on my jeans and pulling the zipper down achingly slowly. Standing, he pulls my jeans down my legs, then remains there, a perfect bare-chested statue at the end of my bed.

I squirm under his stare. I wish it was dark in here, but it's only mid-afternoon. "I'm sure I don't exactly… measure up to what you're used to," I whisper.

Edward's eyes snap to mine. "What? Baby, you are not lacking in any way." Climbing back on top of me, he continues, "I'd much rather have real tits than fake triple Ds."

And with that he yanks my bra cup down, roughly sucking my nipple into his mouth. I can't help crying out. I feel his right hand snake under my back, snapping my bra open. He removes his mouth just long enough to pull off my bra before covering my other breast.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"Yes," I moan.

"I really like these," he smirks, squeezing a breast in each hand, pulling at my nipples until I feel like they could cut diamonds.

He places a light kiss on my lips before rolling off of me so that he can remove his jeans. My eyes widen at the bulge in his boxers and I swallow hard. We're really going to do this.

Edward laughs when he sees where my attention is directed. "Maybe you should save the shock and awe until I remove the boxers." His eyes narrow. "Unless you snuck a peek when I was passed out in your bed."

"What?" I exclaim. "No! No, of course I didn't. I only…"

"You only what?"

"I only looked at your tattoos. I wasn't interested in… what was in your boxers."

"And now you are?" he smirks, pulling a condom from the box he'd tossed onto the bed earlier.

I lick my lips and he laughs loudly, rolling on top of me. He presses his… package into my hip and I gasp at the feeling.

"Bella," he says in a teasing voice.

"Y—yes?"

"Are you going to take your panties off, or should I?" His finger is teasing, dipping in and out of the waistband.

"You can do it," I whisper.

With a huge grin, Edward rolls off of me again, kneeling down by my calves as he places his fingers on opposite sides of my hips and begins pulling my panties down. I watch the need on his face as he tosses them to the floor, moving his fingers between my thighs.

"Fuck, Bella, you really do want this," he groans, stroking me slowly. I tense as one long finger pushes inside. It has been a long, long time.

"Tell me you have toys or something."

"Um… no."

In a flash, he removes his hand, yanking his boxers down and throwing them aside. He strokes himself a couple times before ripping open the foil packet with his teeth. I watch as he slides the condom down over his very impressive cock. He's bigger than Jacob; there is no way this is not going to hurt.

"Kiss me, Bella," he whispers, rolling back on top of me. I lean up, touching his lips gently. He grins at me. "Do you want me to go slow?"

"No."

"No?" he asks in surprise.

"I didn't think you'd know how to do slow."

He laughs loudly. "You want the full Edward Cullen special, huh?" His cock is nudging at my entrance, and all I want is to feel him filling me. "Ready or not…"

"Oh my God," I squeal when he finally pushes inside in one long, hard thrust.

He groans loudly. "Holy fuck, you're as tight as a virgin. Hang on, baby."

He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in. I lean up, claiming his lips, while my arms wrap tightly around his shoulders. I slowly slide my feet until my knees are bent, scratching my short nails up and down his back.

Edward's mouth moves from my lips to my neck, to my collarbone and finally to my breast. His hands brush up and down my sides, around to my ass. I'm stretched enough now that it's no longer borderline painful, and I wrap my legs tightly around him, keeping him close to me.

"Fuck, you feel good," he moans. "Best pussy I've had in ages."

I slap at his shoulder and he laughs through his heavy breaths, "It's a good thing, baby."

"I still think you're an ass," I pant.

"I'm an ass who's about to make you scream though," he growls, grinding against me.

"Ahhhh…" I throw my head back, tugging hard on his hair when he keeps laughing at me.

He sucks hard on my right nipple, then bites it gently, before switching to the other side. His hips never stop their relentless pistoning. I can feel his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, and I know he's close.

I feel his hand on my lower back, pushing up so that my hips are tilted just right for him to hit my clit on every thrust. "God… Edward…" It's almost too much, the sensation overload.

His lips swallow my moans with sloppy kisses. One hand is in my hair, the other is underneath me, pulling my hips roughly into his.

"Mmmmmmmmmm… God!" I scream, feeling my insides clenching repeatedly. Edward slams into me three more times before he freezes, his forehead falling to my shoulder.

I'm breathing heavily as I lie there, still quaking with the aftershocks. With a long groan, I feel Edward slipping from inside me as he flops over onto his back. His arm covers his eyes and I almost laugh, seeing him in the same position he took Friday night… though presumably much happier now.

With his other hand, he reaches down, pulling the condom off his softening cock. He sits up slightly, tossing it into the wastebasket next to the bed, then flops back down again. I stare at his taut stomach as it moves in and out with his heavy breaths.

As I lie there, I start to feel cold, and so I pull the sheet up to cover myself, turning onto my side. Edward stirs behind me, pulling my back into his warm chest. "Are you cold?" he whispers.

"A little. You're warm."

"I thought I was hot," he chuckles.

"I never said that."

His lips touch my shoulder. "You were thinking it, baby."

I close my eyes, exhausted and sated.

* * *

When I open my eyes again, it's dark in my bedroom. I no longer feel Edward's body heat behind me.

"Edward?" I whisper, but he doesn't answer.

I climb out of bed, digging through a drawer for my robe. I have no idea where he threw my underwear.

As I step into the living room, I hear the sounds of yet another football game coming from the TV, but surprisingly, Edward isn't in front of it.

"Hey," I whisper, walking into the kitchen.

"Almost ready," he calls. He's shirtless, wearing only his lounge pants as he pokes at something on the stove.

"What is?"

"Dinner. It's almost seven o'clock."

"Oh." I'm shocked that I slept so long. "What are we having?"

"Homemade fish and chips. Trying to see if I can make them better than the ones at the brewpub."

"You spoil me."

"You ain't seen nothing yet, baby," he says, turning around to leer at me.

"I meant in the kitchen," I reply, rolling my eyes. Edward smirks in response, turning back to his cooking.

I wonder if he really meant what he said. I fully expect that what happened this afternoon will turn out to be a one-time thing. I can't be enough to keep Edward interested… clinging to him and letting him fuck me. I don't know how to be a "freak" between the sheets. Jacob and I always had a fairly basic sex life. It was nothing special, but neither of us had ever been with anyone else, so we didn't know any different.

What Edward did to me today… I'd never felt anything quite like that before. He was using me for his own pleasure, yet he made sure that I got mine, too.

"Bella!"

"Huh?"

"Where did you go? I put your plate down 30 seconds ago but you're just staring into space."

"Sorry," I whisper, taking a bite of my fish.

"You're not gonna act weird because we fucked, are you?"

"No," I reply quietly. "I'm just…still tired," I lie.

"Are you sore?"

"I'm ok," I nod. And I am, the slight ache between my legs reminds me that I'm alive.

"More football tonight?" I ask when I finally push my plate away, complete stuffed on Edward's excellent cooking once again.

"The Sunday night game should be over soon. We can maybe catch the end of it."

"No — no, that's ok. I was just wondering."

Edward smirks, picking up my plate. "We can watch a movie, Bella, whatever you want."

"Thank God," I sigh, getting up to help him with the dishes.

* * *

**A/N: **I'd love to know what you're all thinking now! We know all about Edward's past, and they had sex! Someone mentioned in a review to the previous chapter that they should've stopped for condoms on the way back home... now we know why Edward didn't stop. ;)

While there are a few more details still to be revealed, it's safe to read Bella's back story in "Instant Karma" now.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Only one person who didn't like Edward's thoughtless comment during sex... at least Bella slapped him for it.

* * *

_Monday, September 24, 2012_

_"How could you, Bella?" The betrayal in his voice makes my heart ache. "How could you move on? How could you try to be happy after what you did? You don't deserve it. You'll never deserve it."_

"Stop it!" I scream out. "Don't try to make me feel guilty. Please, stop!"

"Bella!" Edward's voice rings out louder than Jacob's voice in my head. "Wake up!"

I force my eyes open to see Edward on top of me, his hands wrapped tightly around my arms as he shakes me.

"Are you here with me, baby?"

"Yes," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

"What were you dreaming about?" he asks, rolling to his side and bringing me with him.

"Jacob. He's upset with me."

"Jacob's dead."

"But he still doesn't want me to move on. I don't deserve to be happy after what I did."

"Not that bullshit again." He sounds exasperated.

"It's not bullshit, not to me. It's been my reality for almost three years now."

Edward shakes his head, before combing his hand through my hair. "It wasn't your fault, Bella," he says softly. "Repeat that."

"I… I can't."

"Yes, you can. Tell me it wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't my fault," I whisper.

"Like you mean it," he growls.

All I can do is shake my head, hot tears starting to fall. Edward leans over and kisses them away.

"Say it," he orders.

"Edward… I can't."

"You _can_, Bella," he insists, wrapping me tightly in his arms as we lie side by side. "You aren't a bad person. It wasn't your fault. Tell me."

My eyes are adjusting to the darkness enough to see him now. I can see in Edward's eyes that he truly believes what he's saying. He's not just trying to make me feel better, as I always feared when my friends or family would tell me the same things he is. Frankly, Edward just isn't the type of person to do that.

Could it really _not_ be my fault?

"Bella," he whispers, tugging on my bottom lip with his. "Say it, baby. Out loud."

"It wasn't my fault." The sentence is barely audible as I test out the words on my tongue.

"Again."

"It wasn't my fault," I repeat, louder this time. My eyes are blurry with unshed tears. "It wasn't my fault."

Edward kisses me gently, then pulls back smiling.

"It wasn't my fault, Edward," I sob. I need to be closer to him. I throw my leg over his, trying to burrow into his body, into his strength. He tightens his arms around me, kissing all around my mouth.

"You're naked," I gasp. "Why are you naked?" We'd both gotten into bed exhausted earlier after watching the late news. We hadn't messed around or anything.

"I always sleep naked," he chuckles. "I only kept my boxers on earlier to keep from freaking you out."

"But you like freaking me out."

"That I do," he replies. Before I can reply, he's kissing me, his tongue exploring my mouth. I can literally feel his arousal grow where it's pinned beneath my thigh. His arm wraps around from behind me and dips into my pajama bottoms, fingers stroking my panties.

"Mmmm… I think you like me naked, Bella," he purrs. "You are so responsive to me. Take these off," he demands, pulling at the waistband.

I can't help but listen to him when he uses that tone of voice. I reluctantly pull away from his body long enough to remove my pajamas and panties before quickly retaking my place beside him. I gasp at the feeling as he slips his hard cock inside me.

"Shhh…" His lips claim mine again, as I feel him pulling out slightly then pushing in again. It's difficult to get very deep penetration from the odd angle, but I don't mind. We trade kisses as he continues his slow, shallow thrusting.

Eventually we fall into a rhythm as I try to meet his thrusts. I bury one hand in his hair, feeling the soft strands fall through my fingers, while the other rubs up and down his back. This is so much more intimate than this afternoon… or yesterday, I suppose, given that it must be the middle of the night.

"God, you feel so good," he moans as we continue to rock together. "Never… felt… anything like this."

I want to scoff at the platitudes, but then I realize… "Edward, you forgot a condom!" I try to pull away but he's holding me too tightly.

"Can't… stop… now," he pants. "I'll pull out."

When I feel his mouth traveling along my jaw, I forget my panic. This just feels too good to ever, ever stop. The slow burn inside me is suddenly white hot, my orgasm taking me completely by surprise.

"Oh fuck," he screams, pulling out moments before I feel hot streams of fluid hitting my thigh.

I roll to my back, unable to stop shaking after the most intense orgasm of my life. Edward is still lying on his side next to me, his face buried in the pillow. I close my eyes and lie still for several minutes as my breathing slows.

When I feel the mattress move, I open my eyes, looking up at Edward as he stands. "I'll be right back," he whispers. When he returns, he cleans me off gently with a wet washcloth. "Um, sorry I got you all sticky."

"Don't ever be sorry for that," I mumble.

He laughs. "Did you see God, baby?"

"Shut up."

He laughs again, tossing the washcloth onto the nightstand before he gets back into bed. "I suppose you want to cuddle now."

"Just until I fall asleep," I mumble, already most of the way there. Still, I feel him pull me onto his chest, stroking my hair.

* * *

The sun is shining brightly through the windows when I open my eyes. I sit up, digging around for my underwear and pajama pants until I find them on the floor.

I hear Edward moving around in the kitchen, but I stop in the bathroom to take care of business before seeing what he's up to.

"What are you making?"

"Toast," he replies. "I wasn't feeling creative this morning. Do you want a couple pieces?"

"Sure, yeah," I tell him, taking a seat at the table after I add some food to Leo's bowl.

"Did you sleep ok?" he asks tentatively as he brings me a plate with two slices of toast. I take the time to add butter and jam before replying.

"I did, after…"

"You had a nightmare about Jacob?" he asks.

I nod. "I dreamed that he was angry with me for… being with you. I know it wasn't rational."

"You still need to talk to a therapist, Bella," he says gently.

"I know. I promise I will."

"You said your mother dragged you to one in Seattle?"

"Um, yeah. She was staying with me for several weeks after the accident, since I couldn't drive or get around very well in a wheelchair."

"What made her recognize that you needed help?"

I close my eyes, remembering what was probably my lowest moment on this earth. "I don't… want to tell you."

"You can tell me anything, Bella."

"No… you'll get angry."

"Bella." There's a hint of warning in his voice.

"She caught me holding a bottle of pills," I whisper.

"What kind of pills?"

"They were Jacob's. Strong painkillers for an old knee injury."

"You were planning to kill yourself?" he asks in disbelief.

"No! Yes… no — I had just found the pills in the medicine cabinet. The idea crossed my mind, but I didn't know if I could go through with it."

"How could you even _think_ about it?" I knew he'd be angry.

I shrug. "The alternative was a lifetime of guilt. Please don't be angry. It was just a momentary thing, I don't know if I ever would've been serious about it. My mom walked in and saw me, and called a therapist that afternoon."

He sighs, staring across the table at me. "In a way you did commit suicide," he says quietly. "Maybe not physically, but you stopped living."

"Don't be angry," I whisper.

"I'm not… it's in the past," he replies. Standing, he takes his dishes over to the sink then comes back for mine, leaning down to kiss me quickly as he takes them. "Go take your shower. I'll handle these."

The hot water feels unbelievably good. Once I've washed myself and my hair, I stand under the spray until the water turns cold.

"I hate daytime TV," Edward grumbles as I step out of the bathroom, making me laugh. Realizing I haven't been online myself in ages, I sit down at the computer, answering a couple of e-mails.

About five minutes after I e-mail my dad, he calls me via Skype.

"Shit. Edward, stay down, away from the webcam. And turn the volume down."

Once I'm sure the coast is clear, I answer the Skype call. "Hi, Dad."

"Bells! I was just about to send a search party out after you."

"Yeah, sorry. I just haven't been online much lately."

"Are you feeling better than last week? You look better. You look different."

I swallow hard. "Different?" I can't have Charlie's cop radar aroused.

"Yeah, you look happier than I've seen you in a long time. Is something going on? Why haven't you been online? It's not like there's anything else to do if you won't leave the house by yourself."

"I took advantage of a few nice days to walk around the lake."

"With that convict on the loose?" he asks angrily.

"I doubt he's hanging around the lake just waiting to kidnap me."

"Don't forget to take pepper spray if you go out."

I roll my eyes. "I won't, Dad."

"I mean it, Isabella. Look, I've got Friday off, so I'm gonna drive down to see you."

"Dad…"

"Don't you want to see your old man?"

"Of course, Dad, I miss you, but… you know Mrs. Cope comes on Fridays."

"You'll be home before I can get down there, unless I leave bright and early." I hear a phone ringing in the background. "It's the station — I'll see you Friday."

"Bye, Dad." As soon as the screen goes blank, I knock my head on the desk a few times. I'm startled when Edward rubs his hand along my back.

"Your father would shit a brick if he knew what you've really been doing," he chuckles.

"Don't I know it."

"He loves you."

"I know. What the hell are we going to do about Friday?"

He shrugs. "Hide my things and I'll go hang out by the lake or something. It'll be fine." Edward pulls me to my feet, kissing me until I forget all about Friday.

"Get your coat, we're going out," he announces when he pulls back.

"What? Now where?"

"I want another one of those burgers we had last week."

"We just got burgers two days ago at Red Robin."

"Half a burger."

"You had more than half."

He shrugs. "Semantics."

"Edward…"

"Isabella."

"No one calls me that, you know," I say, slapping him in the chest. "And only my dad calls me Bells, before you start."

"I want a burger," he whines, "Let's go." He walks off toward the kitchen, returning moments later with my dad's fishing hat. With a sigh, I grab my coat and purse.

"This time I really need the gun. The entire town has seen my picture and is probably looking for me." The look on his face says he's not kidding around. I don't like it, but I turn and walk into the bedroom, Edward close on my heels. Pulling my sleeve over my hand, I take the gun out of the jewelry box, handing it to Edward. "So this is where you hid it," he muses. "I expected your underwear drawer or something."

"It makes me nervous when you have that thing," I say quietly as he tucks the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

"The safety is on. It's fine. Come on," he says, his hand on my back leading me out of the room. I hand Edward my keys after I lock up.

Once we reach the truck, I wait for Edward to reach across and unlock my door, then hop up into the truck cab. Just like before, my eyes dart around nervously, looking for anyone who might recognize me as we drive through Aberdeen. I don't see anyone.

When we reach Maxi Burger, Edward pulls into the lot, shutting off the engine.

"Same as last time?" I ask. He nods his response and I hop out.

Once I order our food, I stand around anxiously while I wait. Every minute that we're out is a minute that we could get caught. Someone who knows me could easily recognize me and wonder what I'm doing here with a strange man. Not only would Edward go to prison, but I very likely could as well — that is, if Charlie doesn't kill me first.

When our food is ready, I smile and thank the teenager behind the counter, then hurriedly walk back to the truck. I'm getting settled into my seat when Edward grabs the bag, his hand emerging with two of my fries.

"Hey!"

He winks at me, handing me the bag back. "You can have one of my onion rings when we get home."

It takes a full minute for the impact of what he just said to hit me — _home_. My home is Edward's home now — and I like having him there. I have no idea what I'll do when he moves on.

I hold my breath when we cross the bridge into Aberdeen. "I hate this," I say quietly. "I'm paranoid that someone is going to recognize me or the truck and see you with me." At least no one knew me in Olympia.

"I've got your dad's fishing hat on, Bella. They'll just think I'm him." He sounds so sure, but I'm still nervous. After we pass the Walmart, the open road ahead makes me breathe easier.

Once we're safely back home, I unlock the door, motioning for Edward to go inside. "I'll put this away," he says, taking the gun out of his jeans. While he's taking care of that, I set up our lunch on the kitchen table and pour our drinks.

"Mmmm…" he moans, biting into his burger. He almost seems to enjoy that more than sex.

"You're lucky you're still young enough to be able to eat like that."

He laughs. "You aren't that old, Bella. Of course, I don't actually know how old you are."

"I'm 30," I say quietly.

"Oooh… second-oldest woman I've ever been with."

I nearly choke on a French fry. "You've slept with a woman older than me?"

"Yeah. I think she was about 35. One of those recent divorcees trolling the bars for a young stud to make her believe she's still sexy."

"And you were only too happy to oblige."

He shrugs, winking. "It was my solemn duty."

I feel a surge of jealousy thinking of all the women that Edward has been with. How could I possibly measure up to any of them?

Suddenly I'm not very hungry anymore. I was lucky enough to have Edward twice but it makes me sad to think that I won't have another chance. Surely he must realize how inadequate I am as a lover.

"What's wrong?" he asks after I get up to throw my last few bites away.

"Nothing."

"_Some_thing."

"It's just…"

He stalks toward me, reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "You're not getting weird on me, are you? You don't regret what we did?"

"What? No, no, I don't regret it."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I know I'm not what you're used to," I whisper. "I'm sure you were disappointed."

"What the fuck are you on about? Did I act like I didn't enjoy myself?"

"No, but… I'm sure you're already bored with me. I'm not… kinky."

"_Bored_ with you?" He takes my hand, placing it over his groin. Oh God, he's _hard_.

"Does that feel like I don't want to do it again, Isabella?"

"B—but—" My words are cut off by his lips, telling me he definitely wants to do it again — right now. He grasps me around the waist, lifting me onto the kitchen counter while his mouth continues to show me exactly what he wants.

When he finally pulls back, he pushes up on my top. I lift my arms and he pulls it off, tossing it to the floor before running his hands over my bare skin. "I think there's a sex kitten in there just waiting to come out," he whispers. "Don't move."

Edward all but runs out of the kitchen, returning with a foil packet in his teeth. He wants to do it _here_?

Placing the condom on the counter beside me, he opens the fly of my jeans and helps me down so he can remove both them and my panties in one swoop. Then he lifts me back onto the counter, kissing me deeply while his hands play with my breasts.

I'm a quivering ball of need before he stops kissing and touching me long enough to open his own jeans, shoving them down to his knees. I'm shocked to see that he's gone commando.

I watch in fascination as he rolls the condom down his long thick shaft before he steps closer to me.

"Hang on, baby," he winks before one hard thrust leaves him fully sheathed inside me. He pulls at my legs until I get the hint and wrap them around him. I leave one hand tightly holding on to the edge of the counter, burying the other one in his hair.

I throw my head back as he moves in and out, slowly at first but quickly picking up speed. This is definitely fucking, not making love, but I love it. He's so beautiful. I love watching the way his muscles move, the raw energy he has.

I make the mistake of looking down, and I'm fascinated watching the way his cock moves in and out of me. "You like to watch, baby?" When I look up at him, the ever-present smirk is on his face.

His thrusts speed up even more as he reaches down, one finger circling my clit. "Ed—" I grasp at his arm, wanting him to stop before it's too much.

My God, how can he do this to me so easily? He leans over, biting at my nipple through my bra, and I'm lost, screaming incoherently.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" he yells before throwing his head back in pleasure and pain, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. His forehead drops to my shoulder, where he catches his breath before turning his head to leave a sweet kiss on my neck.

I hiss as he pulls out of me, grasping the end of the condom. With one hand, he pulls his jeans back up then throws the condom into the trash. I hop off the counter, immediately regretting it. I wasn't sore after yesterday, but I most definitely am now. I feel like I'll be walking funny for a week.

I bend over, picking up my clothes from the floor, then dash to the bathroom to clean up and get re-dressed. When I'm done, I find Edward sitting on the couch. I move to sit beside him, but he pulls my arm until I fall into his lap, straddling him.

"Did your husband ever fuck you on the kitchen counter?" he asks with a smirk, his fingers tickling my sides under my sweater.

"None of your business!" I slap his chest.

"I'll take that as a no." Another smirk.

I want to slap him again. I want to kiss him. I settle for kissing him — it gets the smirk off his face.

"You want me again already, baby?" he asks when I pull back.

"No! I was trying to shut you up."

Edward grins at me. "How many lovers have you had, Isabella?" He trails his fingers lightly down my arms as he speaks.

"Stop calling me that."

"How many?"

"How would you like it if I asked you that question?"

"You can ask," he laughs, "But I really couldn't give you an answer."

"You're disgusting."

"You didn't think so 15 minutes ago. How many, Bella?"

"Two," I finally answer. I'm sure my face is beet red.

"Your husband was your first and only before me?"

"Yes," I whisper, unable to look him in the eye.

"Were you his first?"

I nod, still not looking at him.

"I have no idea how two virgins ever figure out what to do," he remarks. "At least one needs to have some experience."

"Your first time was with an experienced woman?"

"Oh yeah," he replies, a leering grin on his face. "I was 15 and she was like 21, I think. Older sister of one of my friends. She had a lot to teach."

I shake my head. "You are so disgusting. Sex is meaningless to you, isn't it?"

"It's a good time," he shrugs.

Edward's words sting. I try to get off his lap before he can see exactly how much, but he stops me.

"Tell me more about your husband."

"Like what?"

"You said you were best friends first then high school sweethearts, right?"

"Yeah, we started dating in the summer between our junior and senior years."

"When did you lose your virginity?"

I glare at him, but decide to answer anyway. "After senior prom."

Edward's mouth drops open in shock. "You dated for almost a year before having sex?"

"Yeah?" I shrug. "My dad is a cop, Edward. I was paranoid that with his cop instincts, he'd just… know what we'd been doing. I didn't want to disappoint him."

"And Jacob bought that?" he scoffs.

"He never pressured me."

"You said you both went to U-Dub?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"I hope Jacob made up for lost time."

"God, you're disgusting!" I slap at his chest. "We both had roommates. There was no easy place to have sex. I didn't want anyone to walk in and catch us."

Edward looks at me as if I've grown two heads. "I've had sex with plenty of college girls. And I heard my brother's stories from college. There's always a way."

"Look, it just wasn't a big part of our relationship, all right? We were best friends. Relationships should be about more than sex. Not that you would know anything about that."

"I'm not saying it's the only thing! But two young, good-looking people who claim to be in love should be all over each other. What happened after college?"

"We moved in together once we both graduated with our Bachelor's. It took three months for me to get up the nerve to tell Charlie. I think he badgered Jacob into giving me an engagement ring for Christmas," I remember with a smile.

"I hope your sex life improved once you started living together."

I shrug. "It just wasn't a big part of our relationship, I told you that."

"Bella," he begins slowly, "Did you ever stop and think that maybe you and Jacob weren't really meant to be a couple? Maybe you were just best friends who shouldn't have tried to be more."

"Don't say something like that!" I scream, again trying to get away from him, but his arms form strong bonds around me.

"I'm not trying to upset you, really. I'm just… trying to make you stop and think for a moment. It's like you've romanticized this in your head as some great love affair, but maybe it really wasn't. Maybe you spent a lot of energy trying to save something that wasn't meant to be saved."

I stare at him, traitor tears leaking out. "Don't cry, baby. I'm actually trying to make you feel better," he chuckles. "If everybody gets one great love in their life, maybe you haven't lost yours."

He brushes my tears away before leaning in to kiss me gently. I return his kiss eagerly and it quickly escalates into something that makes my toes curl.

Reluctantly, I pull back when I feel his hands going for my top. "I'm not having sex with you again."

"You're not, huh? Never?" he asks, raising his eyebrow.

"Not today. I'm kinda… yeah." God, I know I'm blushing.

"Out of practice?" he smirks before hugging me to his chest, his hands stroking through my hair again and again. I totally relax into him, feeling like I could stay here forever.

"You gonna fall asleep?" he whispers.

"Mmm… I shouldn't. I've been neglecting the blog."

"Will you show me?" he asks.

Nodding, I climb off of his lap. Edward grabs one of the kitchen chairs, sitting at the PC watching while I get some work done. To his credit, he never seems bored — though I'm sure he is.

At five o'clock, Edward jumps up from the chair to watch the pregame show for Monday Night Football, promising to let me know when the game is starting so I can watch his brother.

I join him when the game starts, curling up at his side. Leo jumps onto the couch, lying across both our laps, getting double the pets. Spoiled cat.

"Your brother is good," I tell him when Emmett makes an awesome catch for a long first down.

"Yeah, he is. He went to the University of Miami on a football scholarship."

"It's his… third year, I guess?"

"Yep," he nods.

"Is he… is he married?"

"He's engaged. To one of their cheerleaders. I'll try to point her out at halftime."

"Have you met her?"

"Yeah, he brought her around last summer. Her name is Rose. She's like five-foot-ten, long blonde hair. And a total bitch."

"Ow!" he exclaims after I slap him in the chest. "She was! She looked at me like I was somehow beneath her — the jailbird adopted brother."

Underneath his anger, I can sense that Edward was hurt by Rose's attitude toward him. They aren't visible often, but he does have feelings.

At halftime, he jumps up from the couch to heat up the rest of the leftover chili in the microwave for our dinner. We eat quickly then come back to the living room so he can point out his brother's fiancée to me.

"There she is," he says, pointing toward a stunningly gorgeous woman with a perfect size-zero body and sexy curves. I immediately feel less than attractive by comparison.

"She's very pretty."

"If you like that type," he snorts. "Told you I prefer brunettes."

I nod, but I know he's only trying to placate me. There's no way that Edward or any man would really prefer someone who looks like me if someone like Rose was attainable.

The Seahawks end up winning the game on a disputed touchdown in the last few seconds. Edward whoops and hollers, trying to high-five me.

"Didn't you want your brother's team to win?" I ask curiously.

"Only when they're not playing the Seahawks," he shrugs.

When Edward gets up for another beer, I use the golden opportunity to take over the remote control. He rolls his eyes, but lets me pick what we watch next. I snuggle into his side again and his arm automatically goes around me. I try and try, but I can't think of the last time I felt this content.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh dear, Charlie is coming on Friday! And he's noticing something different about Bella...


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Lots of worries about Charlie's impending visit! But that's on Friday, and it's only Tuesday. :)

* * *

_Tuesday, September 25, 2012_

"Bella."

Soft kisses on the back of my shoulders wake me from sleep. "Are you awake?" Edward whispers.

"No."

He chuckles, sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

"Go do whatever you women do in the morning and then come back here. I want to serve you breakfast in bed." With a final kiss to my cheek, he's up and off the bed. I manage to open my eyes just in time to see he's put on boxers this morning.

With a heavy sigh, I put my feet on the floor. I use the bathroom then brush my teeth and hair. I wander into the kitchen, but Edward must hear my footsteps, because he turns around, glaring at me. "I thought I told you to go back to bed?"

"You don't need to make me breakfast in bed."

"But I want to. Back to bed!"

"Always so bossy," I grumble, but I do it.

Ten minutes later, Edward appears in my doorway carrying a tray of food. "Pancakes?" I remark when he sets it down.

"Yep. Eat up, you're going to need your energy."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means we're spending the day in bed."

"Oh really?" I protest but just his words are making me aroused.

"This needs to come off," he says, lifting up on my pajama top until I'm naked from the waist up. "Wouldn't want it to get dirty," he adds before kissing me.

"You taste like maple syrup," I tell him, licking my lips as I pull the covers up over my naked breasts.

I take a bite of my breakfast and the pancakes are delicious — better than the ones I made.

I'm almost done eating when suddenly Edward picks up my fork, cutting off half of the remaining piece. "I'm going to feed you now," he announces, before swirling the pancake in the excess maple syrup pooled on the plate and tugging the covers down as he brings the fork to my mouth. He put so much syrup on there that a drop falls onto my chest on the way to my mouth.

"Oops," he grins.

"You did that on purpose."

"Who me?" But then he leans over, cleaning up the sticky mess with his tongue. "Mmm…"

He feeds me the last bite before carefully removing the tray from my lap and setting it on the other side of the bed. Running the tines of the fork through the syrup, he then holds it over me, more drops falling onto my breasts. Just as before, he licks the syrup off, swirling his tongue for added effect.

The next time, he deliberately lets the syrup drip onto my nipples. Once he's satisfied that both nipples are hard and erect, he lets the drops fall down my stomach, licking a trail behind them. "Pants, off," he says gruffly.

As always, I'm powerless to resist him. I quickly strip off the rest of my clothes and let Edward gently position me flat on my back. He pulls my thighs apart with a huge grin, turning now to his own plate since he's pretty much cleaned up all of the extra syrup on mine.

I jump when the first drop of maple syrup hits right when I'm most needy for him. "Oh God," I moan when his tongue laps at the syrup. He does it one more time before he shrugs, picking up the plate and letting the syrup pour over the apex of my thighs.

"Jesus, you'll get the sheets all covered in syrup."

"We'll wash them," he growls before diving in, licking gently from my entrance up to my clit. Amidst the pleasure, there's shock — for some reason, I really wouldn't have expected Edward to be the type to go down on a woman.

He pours more of the syrup over me, licking until he's got every last drop before sucking my clit into his mouth. Writhing on the bed, I reach down, grasping at his hair. "Stop, Edward, it's too much."

I see him shaking his head, never removing his mouth from my skin. He begins flicking me with his tongue until I cry out my orgasm, shaking uncontrollably.

I almost laugh when he lifts his head, grinning at me, drops of syrup running down his chin. I'm still panting when suddenly he's up, setting the tray on the floor before reaching for the box of condoms on the nightstand. He quickly strips off his boxers then rolls on the condom.

Kneeling between my legs, Edward lifts me up until my hips are resting on his lap. He places his cock at my entrance and presses his way inside. He holds still for a moment, as if he's trying to pace himself, before he begins to move.

My head and shoulders are still on the bed, but my back is arched up in the air. Edward is grasping my hips as they rest on his thighs. I'm pretty much helpless in this position — best to just relax and enjoy the ride.

I focus on watching the concentration on Edward's face and the way the muscles in his abs move as he fucks me. He grins at me when he sees me watching him so intently.

"Play with your tits," he whispers abruptly.

"What?"

"Touch yourself, Bella."

As embarrassing as it is, I hesitatingly bring my hands up, holding my breasts in my hands while I brush my thumbs over my nipples.

"Fuck, that is hot," Edward growls, picking up the pace. His movements start to become erratic and I think he's going to come before I can, when suddenly his thumb is rubbing tight circles on my clit.

"Oh my God," I scream, feeling myself clenching around him repeatedly. With a mighty roar, he thrusts hard one more time before he stills, collapsing forward, his head cradled between my breasts.

He's mumbling something, but I can't make it out over my own heavy breathing. Finally he lifts his head slightly, sucking one nipple into his mouth.

"You aren't seriously trying to start something again?" I ask in wonder.

He laughs, slowly pulling out of me and letting my hips drop to the bed. "No, I was getting the last drop of syrup."

I shake my head, sitting up slowly. "I so need a shower."

"Can I come?" he asks with an impish grin.

"You've been in my shower — you know it's not big enough for two people."

"Sure it is," he shrugs.

My legs are still wobbly as I place them on the ground. I am digging around in a drawer for a fresh pair of panties when I feel Edward's hand on my arm. "Uh-uh… we're spending the day in bed. You don't need those."

Rolling my eyes, I close the drawer and pull my robe down from the back of the bedroom door. I don't feel right walking around the house… naked.

Edward has no such issues, as he follows me completely naked into the bathroom and turns on the shower, grabbing a couple of towels from the cabinet.

"We're just getting clean, right?" I ask as we wait for the water to heat up.

"What do you think?" he smirks, showing me the foil packet hidden in his hand. "Please tell me you've had shower sex."

"Um, no."

"Seriously?"

"We tried once, but Jacob was too tall."

Edward's brow furrows but then he seems to get it. "You mean he tried to do it from behind?"

"Yeah," I admit, seeing my face blush bright red in the mirror.

"Eh, that way is ok; I prefer to hold my partner against the wall. Just gotta be strong enough," he shrugs. "Jacob should've been."

Wanting to end this conversation quickly, I test the water then step into the shower, Edward following close behind me.

"Isn't it kind of pointless to get clean and _then_ have sex?" I wonder.

"Duh! I need a couple more minutes recovery time, so wash your hair, then sex, then get clean."

"You have this all figured out, don't you." I can't help smiling at him.

He grins back, leaning down to kiss me quickly.

I reach for the bottle of shampoo, pouring some into my hand. As I'm working it through my hair, Edward suddenly stops what he's doing to help me. "I love your hair," he says quietly. "Don't ever cut it."

_Ever?_ I'm not sure what to do with that statement, given that our time together is limited.

While I rinse out the shampoo, Edward lathers up his own head, waiting patiently for me to finish up so he can step under the spray. After helping me with the conditioner, he starts playing with my breasts while I'm rinsing it out.

As soon I move from under the pounding water, Edward's lips are on mine. It feels like only moments later when I feel his erection against my hip. He strokes his fingers slowly between my legs, making sure I'm more than ready for him.

I'm too turned on to even notice where he had stashed the condom, but suddenly he is rolling it onto his hard cock. "Jump, baby," he says, grasping me under my backside. I jump up as he lifts, wrapping my legs around him. He wastes no time in burying himself inside me.

Pinning my back against the tiled wall of the shower, he begins moving inside me, dropping kisses to my mouth, my chin, my neck, my collarbone. I scratch my nails up and down his back, unable to do much else. When he lifts his mouth to mine again, our tongues tangle together. _God_, I really love the way he kisses.

Suddenly he lifts me up higher, taking a nipple into his mouth. His hips never stop their delicious movements. I can feel my orgasm getting closer, I just need…

As if he can read my mind, Edward moves me just enough to change the angle. He's hitting the perfect spot inside me now and moments later, I'm screaming and cursing. When his frantic movements finally end, I feel like I was on the best ride ever at an amusement park.

With a cocky smirk, Edward lowers me to the ground. My knees buckle and I have to lean into his chest to keep standing. "It's only the beginning, baby," he whispers. _Oh God._

The water is growing cold, so we quickly wash up then step out of the shower to dry off. "I should probably blow dry my hair," I say quietly.

"Ok," he agrees. "I need to change the sheets, unless you just want to get covered in syrup again." He pulls me against him, kissing me until I'm ready to mount him again. "Just come join me when you're done."

I watch his naked ass walk out of the bathroom, no longer freaked out by the sight of his amazing body. Alone, I have a few minutes to contemplate the last few days with Edward. There's no question my body is starting to crave his. It feels almost disloyal to admit to myself that sex with Jacob was never, ever like this.

But Edward all but admitted that sex is meaningless to him! It's a good time, he said. My heart is definitely starting to get involved, but I'm not even sure he's capable of feeling like that. He's having sex with me because he was growing bored just hanging out here.

And while I know that rationally, I should stop this before he breaks my heart, I'm not sure that I can.

When my hair is dry, I put my robe back on. As I step into the bedroom, Edward is lying stretched out naked on top of a fresh set of sheets. He looks delicious.

"Don't just stand there," he says in a husky voice.

I climb onto the bed, lying on my side facing him. Edward leans up on one elbow, mirroring my position. "Hi," he says quietly.

"Hi."

"I believe you said something on Sunday about wanting to trace the lines of ink on my skin… with your tongue?" I feel my face heat up, remembering. "I'm all yours, baby. My body is your wonderland."

"I don't think that's quite how the song goes."

He shrugs, grasping my hand and pulling it toward his chest, rolling onto his back.

I decide to start with his right arm, tracing my fingers over the pair of dice, the cards, the roulette wheel. "Why all the Vegas stuff?" I ask curiously, picking up his arm so I can follow the designs around to the back side.

"Have you seen _Forrest Gump_?" he asks.

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Forrest Gump says, 'Life is like a box of chocolates.' This is my version — life is a gamble, uncertain, good luck or bad. You never know where you're going to land."

"That's kinda… deep."

"Didn't think I had it in me, did ya?" he replies with a wink.

I move to his left arm, tracing along the cartoon images. "These look kind of familiar, but I can't quite place them."

"_Tim Burton's A Nightmare Before Christmas_. It's my favorite movie."

"You got your favorite movie tattooed all over your arm?"

"Why not?" he shrugs. "Those are the newest ones. It's not actually all done yet. Some of them still need to be colored in."

"These must cost a fortune," I note.

"A buddy of mine is a tattoo artist; he gives me a pretty good deal."

I move now to his chest, tracing the intricate wings of the butterfly over his heart. "Why a butterfly for your mom?"

"She liked them," he says quietly. "At least I think so. There was a butterfly carved in her headstone."

I brush my fingers lightly over her initials, the dates of her birth and death. I can feel Edward's breathing pick up slightly.

"I thought you wanted to do that with your tongue?" he smirks.

I look up at him, swallow hard then lean in, tracing over the butterfly's narrow body with my tongue. When I look back at his face, I can see his eyes have darkened. It's a heady feeling to know that I can affect him this way.

Switching sides, I trace the devil's image with my fingers. "The devil was your father?" I whisper.

He shakes his head. "His voices, not him."

"When you first showed me this one, I wanted to kiss each of your scars."

"Do it," he replies, his voice full of need.

I lean down, placing open-mouthed kisses on the three old knife wounds. The skin feels odd under my lips but with all of the ink, they're hardly visible from more than a couple of inches away.

"Can you feel that? Do they hurt at all?"

"I can feel it," he says quietly. "They don't hurt, but sometimes the skin feels tight there when I'm really stretching."

"Turn over so I can see the one on your back."

"I can't turn over."

"Of course you can."

"Um, no… it's not really possible for me to lie on my stomach right now." He motions down to his groin and I see his cock, standing tall and proud. "It's a Phoenix on my back," he whispers. "Rising from the ashes and all that, since I nearly died."

Slowly, I reach my hand down to his cock, trailing my fingers lightly up one side.

"Bella," he warns. "Do not tease me."

I wrap my fingers around his length, squeezing a little as I move from base to tip. I've never particularly liked giving blowjobs, and I'm probably not very good at it, but suddenly I want to.

Scooting down a little, I take a deep breath before leaning over and sucking the tip of his cock into my mouth. His hips buck off the bed a little and I have to pull back to keep from gagging. "Sorry," he whispers.

I try again, taking him in as far as I comfortably can before pulling back, swirling my tongue all around him. "Is that… ok?"

"Pretty much the only way to mess up a blowjob is if you bite me," he smirks.

I lavish his impressive cock with attention for another minute or so before he tugs at my hair, pulling me up. I look at him in confusion, but when he hurriedly reaches over to the box of condoms on the nightstand, I know what he wants.

Edward rips open the packet with his teeth and hands me the condom. I was on the Pill pretty much from the time Jacob and I started living together, so it's been awhile, but I manage to slide the condom over his length.

I remove my robe and start to roll onto my back beside him, but he reaches out to my arm, shaking his head. "Your turn to be on top. I think I'll just lie here and watch." He smirks at me and suddenly I'm very, very nervous that I'm not going to be able to please him.

After another deep breath, I lift my right leg so that I'm straddling him, then slowly sink down until he's buried inside me. I take a moment to adjust, then place my hands on his shoulders for leverage and start to move.

"That's it, baby… take me all the way in." Edward's hands had been lying at his side, but he lifts them after he speaks, playing with my breasts. He pulls me forward enough to take my right nipple in his mouth, releasing it with a pop.

Eventually he gets impatient with my pace and begins lifting his hips to meet my downward thrusts. I cry out when he takes more control, holding on to my hips so he can lift me up and down at the speed he likes.

"You ride me so good, baby," he moans. I know he doesn't really mean that, but it's nice to hear anyway. "Tell me you're close."

"So close," I pant. He redoubles his efforts. slamming me down onto him harder and harder. "Oh my… God, Edward!" I scream.

With one long groan, he releases my hips, flopping back to the bed. I collapse forward onto his chest, breathing heavily.

I have no idea how much time passes before I feel Edward's arms reach around me, stroking up and down my back. "Can you move, baby?" he whispers.

I really don't think I can, but I lift my leg, feeling his softened cock slide out of me. I flip over onto my back, ready for a very long nap. I feel the bed move as Edward must be getting rid of the condom, before he pulls me onto my side, spooning behind me.

* * *

"Wake up, sleeping beauty."

At Edward's whispered words, I open my eyes to see him kneeling on the floor in front of me, stroking my face.

"Lunch, come on. I know you'll get pissed at me for getting crumbs in the bed, so we'll eat at the table."

I clamber out of bed, grabbing my robe from the foot of the bed, and follow Edward into the kitchen.

"Just sandwiches," he says as I sit down at the table, "Nothing special."

I find it hard to concentrate on the plate in front of me when Edward's naked chest is just across the table. I'm pretty much in shock over what happened this morning. Barring our honeymoon, I'm not sure Jacob and I ever had sex three times in one week, let alone in one _morning_.

When we're finished with lunch, I help Edward clean up, surprised when he leads me back into the bedroom. I look up at him questioningly.

"What part of 'we're spending the day in bed' didn't you understand?" he smirks, opening the tie of my robe. "It's raining outside; there's nothing else to do."

Once we fall into bed, Edward pulls me into him, kissing me with a passion I don't really understand. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of kissing you," I moan when he moves on to my neck.

_Fuck, what I did I just say?_ I'm so embarrassed, hoping Edward wasn't paying attention. I don't want him to know exactly how much I'm starting to feel for him.

His chuckle lets me know that he _did_ hear me. We kiss for what feels like hours, and it's nice — really, really nice. I feel like he's doing this because he wants to and not just because he wants to get off.

When I feel his cock hard and ready against my hip, I know he's going to want me again. And I want him, too. Badly.

"Hands and knees," he whispers.

I look up at him skeptically. "Trust me," he says with a wink. "I'm gonna make you forget your own name."

I scramble up to my hands and knees, watching over my shoulder as Edward retrieves a condom and slides it on. He crawls behind me, then runs his hands up and down my back. He squeezes my ass cheeks, then I squeak when he sticks two fingers inside me.

"Ready for this, baby?"

"Yes," I reply. And I most definitely am ready for anything he wants to do to me.

"I knew there was a sex kitten hiding in there." I can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

He pushes inside slowly, until his hips are right up against mine. I feel his kiss in the middle of my back, and then he starts to move — really move.

"Holy shit!" I can't help crying out. I'm immediately embarrassed when I hear his chuckle. I try to push back to meet his thrusts, but it's already so intense.

"Drop down to your forearms," he directs and I don't hesitate to listen. The change in angle is doing very, very good things to me. The only sounds are our heavy breathing and the slap of his skin against mine. Edward surprises me by reaching around to play with my swinging breasts, never slowing his relentless pounding.

"Ready to come?" he asks with a groan.

"Yessss…"

He pushes down on my upper back until my chest is touching the mattress. He grinds against me on every stroke, making sure I feel every inch of him inside me.

"Please," I beg. I feel like I'll explode if I don't come soon.

Edward slams into me hard three times, biting my shoulder as he comes. I can feel him pulsing inside me and it triggers my own powerful orgasm.

"Fuck," he moans. "You are going to be the death of me."

I laugh, my hips falling to the bed when he pulls out of me. I bury my face in the pillow.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I'm nothing special, Edward," I reply quietly.

He tugs me toward him until I'm half sprawled across his chest. "You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?" he asks, fondling my hair.

I lift my head, leaning my chin on his chest. "I'm not sexy. I'm nothing like the girls you usually have sex with."

"You're right, you're not like them. But you're still sexy. Who knew the innocent act would work for me," he smirks.

I shake my head before laying it back across Edward's chest and closing my eyes.

* * *

When I wake up, Edward is spooning behind me, kissing along my shoulder.

"Are you finally awake?" he asks with fake irritation.

"You wore me out, Edward."

He chuckles. "I promise to go easier on you this time. Turn over."

_Seriously?_

I roll onto my back, where I'm greeted with a toe-curling kiss. Edward climbs on top of me, kissing his way down from my mouth. He stops off for a long while at my breasts before continuing down, finishing by circling my navel with his tongue.

My eyes follow him as he reaches for the box of condoms, returning with a foil packet. He stops when he notices my apprehensive look. "Are you sore?"

"Not really."

"Do you want me to stop? I promise to go slow."

"I want to see you do slow," I nod.

A smile lights up his face before he rolls the condom on, laying his entire body over mine. He kisses me sweetly then inches his way inside. True to his promise, he moves slowly, kissing every inch of my skin within his reach.

I wrap my legs around him, just wanting to feel him closer. "That feels good," he moans as I scratch lazily at his scalp. He returns his lips to mine, caressing the inside of my mouth with his tongue.

The sweat-soaked skin of my chest slides easily against his as he continues to fuck me slowly.

No. Not fucking. This feels much more like making love. But Edward wouldn't do that, would he?

I have no idea how long we continue moving together. I'd be happy if we never stopped. I'm almost disappointed when Edward curls his arms under my shoulders, lifting me slightly, before picking up the pace a little.

I keep my eyes closed as his mouth alternates between my breasts, tugging gently and sucking at my nipples. "Now, Isabella," he growls, tilting me so his cock brushes my clit on every thrust. When I crest the wave, I'm taken completely by surprise, feeling myself clench over and over around him.

"Fucking hell," he shouts before he comes violently. I feel him pull out and roll away from me, but I'm too blissed out to care.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep again, because when I open my eyes, it's nearly dark. I'm under the covers — alone.

I crawl out of bed, dressing in just my robe before hunting Edward down. I find him in the kitchen wearing just his boxers.

"I was just about to wake you." he says with a smile. "Dinner should be ready in five minutes."

"What are we having?"

"Chicken parm. Leo still needs dinner if you want to take care of that."

"Poor thing, locked out of my bedroom all day."

"I told you he has beady little eyes."

Once we finish Edward's delicious dinner, he leads me to the living room.

"Not back to bed?" I ask, shocked.

"It's Tuesday," he replies with a duh expression. He grabs for the remote control, turning it to the Food Network. Oh yeah, his favorite show. I curl up against Edward's side to watch Chopped with him. My neglected cat jumps up onto the couch for some attention.

We watch several episodes of the show before Edward's hands start wandering. First it's gentle circles on my shoulder, then a path that sends tingles up and down my arm.

"Are you gonna let me have you again?" he whispers in a husky voice. With that tone, he can have anything he wants. "It's been at least five or six hours."

"But who's counting, right?" I joke.

"On your back, baby."

I quickly scramble onto my back, my head up against one end of the couch, my feet in Edward's lap. He stands, darting into the bedroom for a condom before returning. I shudder as Edward crawls over me, every inch of his body touching mine, though he's trying to hold his weight off of me.

I'm more than ready when his lips cover mine, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He unties my robe, attaching himself to my breasts.

"Scram, Leo," he growls as he sits up to remove his boxers. I can't hold in my laugh at my poor cat sitting on the coffee table, about to be traumatized.

Once Edward is sheathed inside the condom, he climbs back on top of me, holding my face gently between his hands. "You know most girls don't get a repeat, don't you?"

"I… what?"

"This… today… it isn't my usual M.O."

"Ok," I reply meekly as I feel him inching inside. We get into a rhythm so easily that it's like we've been together for years. The thought scares the shit out of me.

Edward lifts my left leg to his shoulder, taking me to the brink much too quickly given all of the sex we've had today. I cry out in pleasure.

"Meow!"

"It's ok, Leo," I pant, turning my head toward him. He looks like he's about to attack Edward. "He thinks you're hurting me," I explain.

In a flash, he pulls me up and off the couch, still impaled on his cock, turning to sit up against the back of the couch with me in his lap. "You're my shield," he smirks. He lifts me up and down at an almost-punishing pace. I loop my arms around his neck, kissing him greedily, knowing this will be over very soon.

I look down to see Edward's cock sliding in and out and I lose it, screaming incoherently as I come. Moments later, Edward stills, wrapping his arms around me to pull me close as he leans his head back against the couch. I never want to move again.

* * *

**A/N: **So, um, Edward's kinda insatiable. I promise there was actual character development in there.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Glad you all enjoyed the previous chapter! Moosals can attest to how nervous I was about the reaction to it. :)

* * *

_Wednesday, September 26, 2012_

I'm awakened by Edward's warm breath on the back of my neck, his talented fingers playing with my breasts… and his erection poking me in the back.

After a quick shower last night — alone — I fell into bed with Edward, completely exhausted despite my naps throughout the day. I slept unbelievably well. But I'm not ready to face the day yet.

"Edward… let me sleep."

He massages my left breast in his large hand, tweaking the nipple. "I want you," he whispers lowly in my ear. I feel a rush of arousal deep within me at the lust in his voice. He always gets what he wants.

Kissing my shoulder, he begins sliding his hand down from my breasts until it's between my legs, stroking me softly, just barely enough pressure to not be called teasing. "I feel how much you want me, baby."

He pushes one long finger inside me, brushing it in and out at a slow but steady pace. "Do you want me to fuck you with my finger, baby?" he whispers.

A long moan is my only answer.

"You gotta tell me, or I'll stop," he warns.

"Don't stop," I beg. God, he's turning me into a wanton whore.

I whimper as he adds another finger, curling them a little each time he pulls them back out. His thumb circles my clit, making me gasp, I feel him slowly thrusting his hard-on into my lower back while he works me over. His lips are attached to my neck, probably sucking hard enough to mark me.

I lift my left leg a bit, opening myself up to him more fully. The extra room allows him to move a little faster, a little harder. It doesn't take much longer before I feel myself clamping down on his fingers. He keeps going, slowing just a little as I ride out the waves of pleasure.

When my body finally slackens, Edward pulls away. I don't even have to look behind me to know he's getting a condom. He lifts my leg up over his and slides inside easily, groaning loudly.

"Sorry, I think this is gonna be fast," he warns before he begins to move. In no time, I can feel myself close to yet another climax, pushed to the brink by his talented cock. I try not to think about exactly how he got so talented.

"Mmm…" I'm beyond coherent words, too overcome by pleasure. "Oh my God," I scream as I crest the wave again, moments before I hear Edward grunting with his own release. He slips out of me and I almost want to whimper at the loss. How could I feel so empty so quickly?

"I'm gonna shower," he says quietly a few minutes later. "I'll be quick, then go make breakfast."

I think I nod.

When I hear Edward banging around in the kitchen, I crawl out of bed, opening the curtains to see that yesterday's soaking rain is _still_ with us. I pull some clothes out of the drawer before heading to the bathroom.

Once I'm in the shower, my brain goes into overdrive, remembering the last 24 hours — the last several days. I told Edward I wanted to feel his hands all over me. Mission accomplished. I think he's memorized the feel of every square inch of my skin. My body is still tingling from the things he's done to me.

It's absolutely ridiculous to want him so much. I never felt this level of sexual desire even as a teenager. I'd felt nothing at all for over two and a half years, but all I can think about is the next time he's inside me. And the next, and the next.

_Stop it, Bella. Enjoy it while it lasts, but you can't get used to this._

Edward isn't mine. He's passing through. He'll grow bored with me eventually. He admitted last night that he's not a one-woman kind of guy. I don't get to keep him.

Once I step out of the shower, I towel off then blow dry my hair until it's halfway dry. It feels odd to put clothes on again after our naked day. There's no way my girly-parts can take _that_ again though.

Stepping into the kitchen, I notice Edward at the stove, wearing actual clothes. I put some food out for Leo before sitting down at the table. Edward turns around and smiles at me before turning back to whatever he's making. When he grabs a box of powdered sugar from the makeshift pantry, I'm thoroughly confused.

"French toast?" I ask in shock when he brings me a plate.

"Yep," he smiles.

"You do spoil me."

He shrugs, looking suddenly shy. "It's the least I can do," he mumbles.

I dig in, and the food is delicious, as always. Edward really needs to work on becoming a real chef, going to school, once this is all over and he's free.

"What's wrong?" he asks as we eat. "And don't tell me nothing."

I shrug. "Just thinking ahead."

Edward narrows his eyes. "Don't do that. You gotta take life a day at a time, baby."

"But — what happens when you leave? I mean, I know you can't stay here forever, or until you get a new trial…"

"Come here, baby," he replies, crooking his fingers at me. I walk over to Edward and he pulls me down to sit across his lap. He cups my cheek tenderly. "Where else am I gonna go?" Before I can reply, he leaves three soft kisses on my lips before giving me his gentlest smile. We gaze into each other's eyes and I see what almost looks like affection in his gaze.

A hard knock at the front door breaks the tender moment.

I pull back a little, and we continue to stare at each other. "Who do you think that is?" I whisper.

"It's Wednesday, right? It wouldn't be Mrs. Cope. Would your dad show up early?"

I groan. I had a feeling Charlie was getting suspicious of my odd behavior. It would be just like him to make an unexpected visit.

"Go hide in the bedroom," I tell him, standing up from Edward's lap. "I don't think he'll go in there."

"You don't _think_ he will?"

I shrug. Does he have a better idea? No other room is safe.

The knock sounds again, and I try to hurry Edward along. Once I'm sure he's out of sight, I take a deep breath and begin unlocking the deadbolts.

I throw open the door, and standing in front of me in the light rain are three police officers — none of which are my father.

_Oh fuck._

"He—hello, officers," I say nervously. "What can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Isabella Black?" the dark-haired man standing in the middle asks.

"Um, yes."

"I'm Officer Paul Embry from the Aberdeen police department. This is Officer Mike Newton and Sergeant Marcus Aaron. We have a search warrant. May we come in, please?"

"A—a search warrant?" I swallow thickly. "What for? I haven't done anything."

"Please stand back and let us through, Ma'am."

I take a step backward and the three uniformed men walk into my house, closing the door behind them. I step away from the door, moving toward the middle of the living room.

"Ma'am," Officer Embry begins, "Do you have a 1953 Chevy pick-up?"

"Um, yes. Well, I suppose it's technically registered to my father."

"Do you know where it is?"

"It's out back," I answer, confused at the line of questioning.

"Ma'am, we received a tip on Monday that a man looking very much like escaped convict Edward Cullen was driving your truck through Aberdeen."

I gasp. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the other two officers looking around my living room. I pray that Edward is staying well hidden in the bedroom.

"The tipster was able to get the license plate number of the vehicle, and we traced the truck to this address," he explains. "They also noted a female passenger."

"I was riding in the truck on Monday, yes. But I was with my dad," I lie smoothly.

"Your dad?"

"Yes. Chief Charles Swan from the Forks police department. He—he was visiting me."

"Is your father here now?" the younger of the two other officers asks. He looks like he's fresh out of the police academy.

"No, he's not here. He was just visiting on Monday, like I said."

"Then why are there two plates on your kitchen table?"

I freeze. How the hell can I explain two plates?

"Ma'am?" Officer Embry prompts me.

_Don't look toward the bedroom, Bella._

"My boyfriend was having breakfast with me," I reply quietly. It's not _really_ a lie.

"Where is he now?"

"At work?" Fuck, why did that come out like a question? I swallow again, unconsciously stepping protectively in front of the bedroom door.

"As I said before, we have a search warrant. If what you say is true, then you shouldn't have any problem with us looking around your home."

I feel my hands shaking and quickly grasp then together, hoping the officers don't notice. I must be sweating bullets.

I hold my breath while one of the officers checks the bathroom. So there are a handful of men's toiletries in there — so what? I told them I have a boyfriend.

The other two men walk into the kitchen, one of them disappearing into the mudroom where I hear him opening the door to the back patio. I cross my arms in front of myself, each hand rubbing up and down the opposite arm. I resist the urge to turn around and look in the bedroom, for fear that they'll notice.

Oh God, please let there be enough room for Edward to hide under the bed or something. My closet isn't a walk-in, but they'll surely look in there first.

"I don't see anything outside," the young blond officer reports as he comes back inside, trying to clean the mud off his shoes on the mat just inside the door. "Clear in the bathroom," Officer Embry states. "Get out of the way, Ma'am."

Reluctantly I move from in front of the bedroom doorway. I'm barely breathing. All three men step inside as Leo comes scurrying out, nearly giving me a heart attack.

I hear the closet door open and two of the three men peek inside, pushing aside the clothing. I can't see the third man from where I'm standing.

Suddenly, Edward slips out from behind the bedroom door, tiptoeing backwards into the living room. I inhale sharply before slapping my hand over my mouth. My heart is pounding.

My eyes widen as he steps past me, heading in the direction of the bathroom.

"Stop right there, Mr. Cullen." Officer Embry stands in my bedroom doorway, his gun pointed at Edward.

I yelp as I feel Edward's left arm come around me, dragging me backwards into his chest. And then I feel the cold steel of his gun pressing into my right temple.

"Don't come any closer," he replies in a steely voice. "Or I'll kill her."

I yelp again, barely able to control my panic. My Edward, the man I've gotten to know over the last two weeks, would never hurt me. I'm not so sure about a cornered Edward though.

"Don't make this any harder on yourself, Mr. Cullen." The other two officers are now flanking the first, all of their guns pointed at Edward. Or rather at me, given that he's using me as a shield.

"Ed—Edward," I stutter. His arm tightens around me. My feet stumble as he pulls me back a little more, further away from the three men and their guns.

"Let her go."

The young officer raises his gun a little higher and I yelp again. I'm breathing too hard; I'm going to pass out.

"Lower your gun. Don't test me right now," Edward says roughly. "I'm not rotting in prison for a crime I didn't commit."

"You were found guilty in a court of law, Mr. Cullen," the third man sneers. This is the first time he has spoken. He's older than the others — older than my dad, probably — he must be the Sergeant.

"I'm. Not. Guilty."

I reach up with my right hand, lightly caressing the tattooed arm around my stomach, hoping I can calm him somehow.

"Put your gun down and give yourself up, Mr. Cullen — before there are more charges added to your rap sheet."

"I'm not fucking surrendering," he yells.

The three cops seem to be having some sort of conversation with their eyes, then two of them step away from the middle one, fanning them out somewhat. They're going to try to surround us or something. This can't possibly end well.

"Let me talk to him!" I shout. "Drop your guns a minute and let me talk to him. Please," I plead, tears only just now starting to fall.

After another silent conversation, the older officer nods and I try to turn around, but Edward is holding me too closely. "Let me go a little," I tell him quietly. He loosens his hold and I spin around. His gun is now pointed directly at the three officers, not at my head, and I notice his eyes darting back and forth from mine to them.

I reach my arms up around his neck, as much to shield him more from their aim as to comfort him. "You need to give up, Edward," I whisper, my thumbs drawing small circles on his neck.

He shakes his head, green eyes pleading with me.

"Your lawyer is going to get you a new trial. You won't have to be in prison for long. Please, just give up before someone gets hurt. I can't… I can't take it if they hurt you," I sob.

He looks at me helplessly, a tear falling from his eye.

"Give me your gun, Edward. It's gonna be ok. Just give me the gun."

Breathing heavily, I see him relax his hold on the gun, pointing it toward the floor. I step back a little, holding my hand out to him, and he carefully places the barrel of the gun on my palm. I tighten my hand around it.

"Thank you," I whisper. Needing to kiss him one last time, I start to lean up toward his lips when he stops me.

"Don't," he says in a low voice, shaking his head minutely. My eyes widen in shock. This man I've come to care about just held a gun to my head and now he's rejecting my kiss?

I nod slightly, turning around. Two of the officers immediately move toward us. The Sergeant tucks his gun back into the holster, grabbing Edward's arms and pulling them behind him, slapping on a pair of handcuffs.

"Don't be so rough with him," I shout. Officer Embry gently takes the gun from me, placing it into a plastic bag that he pulls from his pocket.

I watch helplessly as the two officers drag Edward from my house. I'm full on sobbing now. I tug my hair out of my face, pulling it into a ponytail, then squeeze my eyes closed, trying to breathe.

"Ma'am," Officer Embry says, pulling me from my breakdown, "What is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Cullen?"

"What?"

"I have a 16-year-old daughter, and I'd say from recent experience, that that looks like a fresh hickey on your neck."

I immediately slap my right hand over the left side of my neck. I remember Edward sucking there this morning, afraid that he was going to mark me. _Oh God._ I could go down with him.

"I need you to come down to the station and answer some questions, Mrs. Black."

"Wh—what? Am I under arrest?"

"No, Ma'am — I just need to get your statement."

"Can't you do it here?" I plead.

He shakes his head. "I don't have recording equipment with me. You don't have to ride in the police car since you're not under arrest," he adds. "You can drive yourself."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't drive," I reply hoarsely.

"All right," he nods. "Why don't you get your things and come with me then?"

"Should I have a lawyer?"

"It's your right, of course, but from my experience, a lawyer will just tell you not to answer any questions, and I need to find out exactly what went down."

I nod. What else can I do?

Moving on autopilot, I get my things, locking the front door behind us after we step outside. I hold my coat over my head to block the rain as the officer leads me to his patrol car, opening the back door. "Sorry," he says apologetically, "By regulation, you have to ride in the back."

I nod my understanding, sliding into the car, and he slams the door.

It's surreal riding in the back of a police car. I bury my face, afraid that the passengers in every car we pass are peering inside.

When we arrive at the Aberdeen police station, the officer helps me from the cruiser, leading me through the throngs of people in the station to a small interrogation room. He hands the plastic bag with the gun to another officer, asking him to tag it as evidence, then closes the door and motions for me to take a seat on one of the hard plastic chairs.

"I believe you're an intelligent woman, Mrs. Black," he begins, sitting down across a small table from me. "I think you're going to understand what I'm saying and do the right thing. I _strongly_ advise you to answer my questions honestly. If I find out that you've lied to me, it's going to be worse for you. Do you understand?"

Even if I throw Edward under a bus, they're going to find out the truth, that I _let_ him stay with me despite having multiple opportunities to call the police. _Someone_ in Cosmopolis, or even Olympia, will remember seeing me in the last two weeks. Hell, even Mrs. Cope could tell them that I've been out with her twice to Walmart since his escape.

"Yes, Sir," I reply submissively. The truth will come out whether they hear it from me or not.

"All right," Office Embry nods, turning on a small tape recorder. "Mr. Cullen escaped from a bus carrying new inmates to Stafford Creek on Thursday, September 13. Has he been staying in your house the entire two weeks?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"How did he get in the house?"

"It was my birthday," I explain quietly. "I was expecting a gift to be delivered. When he knocked at my door, I thought it was the delivery, so I opened it and he came inside."

"Did he threaten you into helping him?"

"No, not really," I whisper. "He told me that he needed clothes and someone to help him get the handcuffs off. He promised he wouldn't hurt me if I helped him."

"So you removed the handcuffs?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Are you an expert on handcuffs?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.

"No," I answer, feeling my face heat up.

"How did you know how to remove them without a key?"

"He, um, Googled how to do it and I watched the tutorials."

"You provided him with clothes, obviously, as he wasn't wearing his prison-issue jumpsuit this morning."

I nod.

"You gave him the men's clothing from your closet, I assume?"

"No," I whisper. "They didn't fit him." That's the truth, even if it's not why I didn't let him wear Jacob's clothes.

"So where did you get his clothing?"

"The next morning was my usual weekly trip to Walmart, so I bought him some clothes there."

"Why didn't he leave as he'd promised once you gave him everything he'd asked for?" Officer Embry asks.

I think about telling him the whole truth about Edward's gunshot wound, but decide to skip that for now — it's not really relevant. "He couldn't leave. His face was all over the news, so he couldn't hitchhike. And I can't drive, so I couldn't drop him off somewhere."

"Why didn't he just steal your truck?"

I shrug. "I… I don't know. It… he never thought of that as a possibility, I guess?" I truly have no idea why Edward didn't just steal my truck. It seems so obvious now.

"Had you two been out in your truck around Aberdeen before Monday?"

"Yes," I reply. "Once he… once he decided to stay, we went out to pick up a few more things for him."

"Things?"

"Like a razor and stuff, toiletries."

"Why didn't he just use your husband's things?"

I feel a huge lump in the pit of my stomach. "My husband is dead."

"I'm sorry for my mistake, Ma'am," he replies, seeming embarrassed. "The shirts and suits hanging in the closet…"

"He died almost three years ago," I whisper.

"I see," he nods. "All right. Why didn't you use the opportunity to call the police when you went to Walmart?"

I knew he'd get to that question. I am so fucked — and not in a good way.

"He told me he was innocent of the charges, and I believed him," I whisper.

"He was convicted by a jury of his peers, Mrs. Black."

"Yes, because the key prosecution witness lied," I retort, my voice rising. "She—she changed her story last Friday," I add more quietly.

"So you didn't turn Mr. Cullen in because you believed in his innocence?" he asks skeptically.

"That's right. I couldn't… I couldn't be the one responsible for ruining his life."

"He ruined his own life, Ma'am, when he chose to break into a home and kill a wife and mother."

"But he didn't!" I shout, jumping from my seat. "You don't know him! He told me that he had never hurt a woman and I believe him."

"He held a gun to your head this morning."

I slide back into my seat, defeated, tears of humiliation falling down my cheeks. I was falling in love with Edward — how could he risk my life like that? I bury my face in my hands and sob.

"Mrs. Black," Officer Embry says gently, handing me a Kleenex, "The D.A. is out of town on a family emergency right now. When he returns, we'll discuss what you've told me and decide whether or not to press charges."

"I'm not… I'm not under arrest?" I ask, sniffling.

"Not right now. I'll get another officer to drive you home."

I nod, wiping my eyes and blowing my nose before I stand up. I'm led out into the hallway, where the young officer from before introduces himself as Officer Mike Newton.

"What happened to Edward?" I ask him as we walk out to his cruiser in the parking lot. It seems almost ironic that the sun has finally come out.

"A couple of guards from Stafford Creek picked him up while you were in with Officer Embry." I inhale sharply. He's already in prison.

When we reach my home, Officer Newton leads me inside.

"I need to collect the evidence," he tells me, almost apologetically. I nod, sitting heavily on my couch.

"These are Mr. Cullen's?" he asks a couple of minutes later, carrying the toiletries from the bathroom.

"Yes."

"Anything else of his?"

"His clothes are in the bedroom. In two plastic bags from Walmart," I add.

"What about his jumpsuit and handcuffs?"

"Gone. I threw them away," I reply.

"Has the trash been collected?"

"Yes," I nod. "My trash is picked up on Tuesdays."

"Thank you," he nods, heading into my bedroom. He returns with the bags of clothes a few minutes later.

"I'll see myself out." He opens the door, then stops, turning toward me. "Ma'am?"

"Yes?" I whisper hoarsely.

"The gun wasn't loaded."

"What?"

"I found these on the floor behind your bedroom door," he explains, holding up a plastic bag with several bullets inside.

"And I, uh," he stammers, turning bright red, "Didn't touch the contents of the wastebasket."

Once the door slams shut behind him, I jump up to lock the deadbolts then walk in a daze into the bedroom. I stare at my bed, images from the last several days flooding my mind.

Officer Newton said Edward's gun wasn't loaded. He'd removed the bullets before holding it to my head. He wasn't threatening my life after all. I feel so… disloyal for even thinking that he would.

I spot the box of condoms on the nightstand and feel my face heat up. _God_, I can't believe that cop looked through my trash and saw the evidence of what we'd been doing. I quickly pick up the nearly empty box and stash it inside the drawer of my nightstand. I can't look at it right now.

And then I throw myself down on the bed and bawl.

* * *

**A/N: **Please don't kill the writer...

Quiz! To see how well you've all been paying attention. How many condoms are left in that box? ;)

**Patience readers:** My short fic Patience has been nominated in the poll to find the Top Ten Favorite Fics completed in April over on twifanfictionrecs. If you read it and enjoyed it, I'd appreciate your vote! And if you haven't, it's only 25,000 words, so what are you waiting for?


	15. September 27

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Thanks for the great response to the last chapter! You guys have more faith in Edward than Bella does. :)

* * *

_Thursday, September 27, 2012_

When I open my eyes, they feel swollen and crusty from crying myself to sleep. My head is pounding; I feel hungover though I didn't touch a drop of Edward's leftover beer in the fridge.

_Edward._ I bury my face in the pillow and can still smell his lingering scent. God, I hope he's ok in prison. The look on his face when the cops led him away from me…

My bladder finally forces me out of bed. Once I've had a very long hot shower and brush my teeth, I begin to feel at least a little more human. After I've thrown some clothes on, I step into the kitchen and put some food out for Leo.

My stomach growling reminds me that I never did eat yesterday once I got home from the police station. I fed Leo when he cried and demanded it, but I never ate anything myself. I fix a bowl of cereal and sit down at the kitchen table to eat — alone once again.

Officer Newton took all of Edward's things. It's as if he was never here.

Except it's not. I am facing possible charges for helping him. Just the thought that I could go to prison… Not all that long ago, I probably wouldn't have cared, but Edward gave me hope that I could get past the guilt and start to live again. And now the thought of being behind bars…

But that's where Edward is. Everything I fear is his reality.

Spending the day crying again isn't going to help me. I need to do something productive. What the hell can I do?

_Dad._ He is friends with one of Aberdeen's finest. Would he be able to convince them to let me go? Or will he strangle me for harboring a fugitive? With shaking hands, I dial the number for the Forks police station.

"_Good morning,_" a pleasant voice answers. "_Forks police station._ _How may I direct your call?_"

I clear my throat. "Chief Charles Swan, please."

"_And who may I say is calling?_"

"His daughter."

Moments later, my dad's panicked voice is on the line. "_Bells? Are you all right? You never call me at work. You're not just trying to convince me not to come visit you tomorrow, are you?_"

"Hi, Dad," I choke out. "No, it's not about your visit tomorrow."

"_What's wrong, Bells?_" He sounds even more panicked now.

"Ed—Edward," I stutter.

"_Edward who? Who are you talking about? Wait, you don't… you don't mean Edward Cullen, do you? The escaped convict? Is he there with you? Has he hurt you? I swear to God if he's hurt you, I'll kill him with my bare hands._"

"He's not here right now."

"_But he _was_ there?_"

"Yes," I whisper.

"_Did he hurt you?_"

"No, Dad, he didn't hurt me," I reply forcefully.

"_What the hell is going on, Isabella?_"

I swallow thickly; there is really no good way to say this. "I gave Edward a place to stay. The police found him yesterday and took him to prison."

"_You did what?!_" I cringe at the volume of my dad's voice. He's pissed; he's _really_ pissed. "_How could _my_ daughter have been so stupid? Do you know what he could've done to you?_"

"That's not the point right now!" I yell. "I'm in trouble, Dad. The cops are waiting for the D.A. to decide if they want to press charges against me for helping him."

"_What did you tell the police?_" My dad is already in business-mode.

"I answered their questions honestly, but I didn't volunteer anything extra."

"_Who is the lead investigator?_" he asks.

"Um, an Officer Embry interviewed me."

"_All right, let me see what I can do. I'll call my buddy right now._"

"Thanks, Dad," I whisper.

"_Why the hell would you help him, Bells?_"

"Because I believed him when he told me he was innocent. Because I couldn't be responsible for ending another life."

I hear my dad sigh loudly. "_Isabella…_"

I cringe at the pain in his voice. "I know, Dad."

"_This conversation isn't over. I'll be down to see you tomorrow, no matter what._"

"Ok. Bye, Dad. I love you."

Once I hang up the phone, I stare across the room at my computer. Edward's capture must be front page of the newspaper. I wonder what they're saying about _me_?

I sit down at my PC and immediately look for the local newspaper's website. Oh yeah, it's the lead story all right. I scan the articles quickly, but they just say that he was found in the home of an Aberdeen resident. There's nothing in there that would identify me. Thank God — I don't want to be a pariah in this town and have everyone staring at me when I go out — if I don't end up in jail, that is. I've never enjoyed being the center of attention.

I shrink the browser window and stare at the g-chat icon on my desktop. Surely someone has told Edward's mom about his capture? Maybe she knows something about how he's doing? I open up the program to Edward's identity and type out a message to her.

**Sunshine: Mrs. Cullen?**

I can see that she's not online — it's 11am on a Thursday after all, so she's probably at work — but perhaps she will check for messages when she gets home. I don't really want to sit here all day waiting, so I decide to give her my phone number and ask her to call me when she's able. It doesn't really matter now if I'm in touch with her, does it?

Once I've messaged her my phone number, I spend some time answering questions for the animal blog before going to the kitchen to scrounge up some lunch. There is a little bit of leftover chicken parmigiana from Tuesday night, enough for me, so I heat that up in the microwave. It makes me sad that this is the last of Edward's delicious cooking.

And then I curl up on the couch with my cat and my Kindle.

In late afternoon, I'm startled by the sound of my cell phone ringing. I check the number, but I don't recognize it. As I answer it, I pray that it isn't the police or some kind of bad news.

"_Hello, this is Esme Cullen. I got your message. You're… a friend of Edward's?_"

"Yes, um, I am now, anyway." I clear my throat. "My name is Bella — Isabella Black."

"_You were helping my son?_"

"Yes," I whisper.

"_I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for keeping him safe, dear._"

"You don't have to thank me," I tell her, my eyes filling with tears. "I messed up; I let him have his way and it got him caught."

"_Yes,_" she sighs, "_The warden from Stafford Creek called me yesterday to tell me that Edward is in custody._"

"How is he? Have you talked to him?"

"_No, I haven't. I would go down there tomorrow, but I have several meetings for work that I can't cancel._"

"I see," I whisper.

"_What about you, dear? Are you… in trouble?_"

"Maybe. My dad is Chief of Police up in Forks and he's going to try to talk my way out of trouble."

"_Good, that's good. I'd hate for you to suffer for your kindness to a stranger._"

"I believe in Edward's innocence," I tell her, probably unnecessarily.

"_I do, too. We'll get him out of there soon. His lawyer is getting closer to getting a copy of the cell phone records. In the meantime, I'm going to stop by to visit him on Monday._"

My ears perk up. "Oh, could I… could I come with you? Could I trouble you for a ride?"

"_A ride?_" she repeats.

"Um, yes, I—I don't drive."

"_I see. Well, I wouldn't have a problem with giving you a ride, but I don't think you'll be allowed to see Edward._"

My heart sinks. "You don't?" How stupid of me… I'm possibly under arrest for aiding and abetting him; of course they won't let me see him.

"_No,_" she replies gently. "_You would have to be on his approved visitor list before you'll be allowed to see him._"

"How do I do that?"

"_There is an application to fill out and then they'll do a background check,_" she explains. "_My husband and I already took care of that when Edward was first convicted several weeks ago._

"_You know what, I think it's fine for you to come with me. You'll be able to get a copy of the application and you can fill it out while I'm visiting Edward. Get the process started._"

"That sounds great. I'll message you my address and directions to my house."

"_All right. Visiting hours run 11am through 8pm, though you can't check in between 3 and 5. I've got a few meetings in the morning, but I'll try to be at your place by around 2pm. Sound good?_"

"That sounds great. I'll see you then."

* * *

When I wake up on Friday morning, I call Mrs. Cope to tell her not to bother coming by to pick me up this morning. For one thing, I don't know what time my dad plans to be here. And for another, I could be in jail by the end of the day, so I really don't need a refrigerator full of food. I give her the excuse of my dad's visit, and that's that. She isn't even suspicious.

I'm just finishing up washing the lunch dishes when there is a loud knocking on my front door.

"Bells?" My dad's muffled voice comes through the door. I quickly pull my hair over my shoulder to hide the hickey Edward gave me before heading into the living room.

I open my door to see my dad, Officer Embry, another cop around my dad's age, and a tall distinguished-looking man in a suit. With a small nod to my dad, I open the door to let them in.

"Hello," the second officer greets me, "I'm Officer Sam Uley. Your dad and I went to high school together."

"It's nice to meet you," I reply, shaking his offered hand.

"This is Robert St. Laurent — the District Attorney for Grays Harbor County."

Swallowing thickly, I shake his hand as well. "Can I… can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine," my dad answers quickly. "Anyone else?"

They all shake their heads, so I motion them into the living room, taking a seat in the chair while the four men squeeze onto my couch. I have to stifle an irrational giggle as I remember Edward fucking me on that couch just three days ago.

"Mrs. Black," Officer Embry begins, "Where were you and Mr. Cullen going when you were spotted on Monday? I never asked you that."

"To get lunch," I reply.

"Lunch?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. We'd gotten burgers in Cosmopolis after I bought some things for him at the drug store there early last week. Edward insisted that he wanted another burger. He put on my dad's fishing hat to cover his hair and thought he'd be safe from anyone recognizing him."

"The tipster was next to your truck in a left-turn lane and was able to get a pretty good look at his profile through the window," he explains. "Why go all the way to the drug store in Cosmopolis? Isn't the Walmart much closer?"

"I was afraid of someone seeing me there with a stranger," I answer. "Someone who would recognize me."

"So you were aware of the possible trouble you could be in if you helped him."

_Fuck._ I walked right into that one. "Yes," I whisper.

"Your father tells us that you've been suffering from PTSD since the death of your husband, Mrs. Black," Officer Embry states suddenly.

I stare down at the floor. "Yes," I finally answer. "I have… panic attacks whenever I try to drive."

"That's why you were unable to drive Mr. Cullen to some other location."

I nod.

"I listened to your interview, Bells," my dad speaks up. "You bought him clothes and removed his handcuffs? Why didn't you just go to the police once you left him alone in your house?"

"Because he was innocent!"

"That wasn't for you to decide, Bells."

The look of disappointment on my dad's face causes the tears to start to flow. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I believed him. If I turned him in, I'd be sending him to prison for 25 years, ending his life. I couldn't do that. I couldn't have it on my conscience. Not again. Not when I'd already killed two people!"

Mr. St. Laurent gasps and I bury my face in my hands, sobbing.

"She means her husband and unborn child," Dad explains quietly. "She feels responsible for their deaths because she was driving the car when she lost control on icy roads.

"My daughter needs treatment for her PTSD — not jail time. Mr. Cullen was captured without any innocent people getting hurt. Punishing Isabella isn't going to change anything."

My dad gets up to come sit on the arm of the chair, holding me in his strong arms. I bury my face in his chest, sobbing. I can hear the other three men whispering amongst themselves.

Finally, the D.A. stands up. "Mrs. Black," he begins.

I look up at him, trying to read the expression on his face. It's pity. The same look I used to get from my parents, from Alice and Jasper, from everyone I came in contact with before I left Seattle. I fucking _hate_ pity.

"I tend to agree with your father, Mrs. Black. As no innocent residents were hurt and Mr. Cullen is safely back behind bars where he belongs" — my dad grasps my wrist tightly in warning as I start to protest — "I'd rather not cost the county the expense of a trial that we likely can't win. I don't think you'll be helping any more escaped convicts."

"No, Sir," I agree, wiping my eyes.

"Do you realize how monumentally stupid your actions were?" he continues. "Not only could Mr. Cullen have seriously harmed you, but a lot of other innocent people as well."

"But he wouldn't!" I protest. "I get it — I really do. It's not like I would've helped another convict. I believed in Edward; I trusted him."

"I do hope that you'll get some help, Ma'am."

I nod, staring at my feet. My dad pats me on the back before standing to see the three men out. "Thank you, Sir," he says, shaking Mr. St. Laurent's hand. "I'm going to see that my daughter gets the therapy she needs if I have to force her into it."

I bristle. He can't force me — I'm a grown adult.

"Pack your things, Isabella," Dad says sternly as soon as he has locked the door behind them.

"What?"

"You're leaving here, tonight. You're coming back to Forks with me."

"No, I'm not," I reply stubbornly. "This is my home."

"Bells, you need help," he sighs. "I've let this go on far too long."

"I know my rights, Dad. You can't force me into therapy. Look — I'll… I'll get some help. I promised Edward."

"_Edward_," he sneers. "You call him by his first name? What did that man do to you?"

"He gave me a reason to live again, Dad! I want to get better, I do. But in my own way, in my own time. I'm not going to Forks."

"Bells…"

"No, Dad. I want… I want to be here, close to Edward."

"Are you insane?!"

"Maybe," I shrug. "I care about him, Dad. We became… friends. I believe in his innocence."

"I have to admit," he sighs, taking a seat on the couch again, "I don't know much about his case."

"Edward became a suspect when the police found his fingerprints in the victim's house," I explain. "But they were there because… because he was involved with the victim's daughter. Only she lied to the police and said she didn't know him. She went back to the police last Friday and changed her story."

"How do you know this?"

"That she changed her story?" He nods. "Edward contacted his mother via the internet and she told him."

"Surely there was more evidence than that to convict the man?"

"They also found bullets to a 9mm gun in his things. That's the type of gun that killed the woman. Edward used to own a 9mm, but he got rid of it several years ago. The police claimed he got rid of it after committing the murder."

"That's it?" he asks, sounding shocked.

I shrug. "He has a prior conviction for holding up a liquor store."

"I don't like you being friends with this guy, Bells," he says, stroking his moustache.

"I'm 30 years old, Dad," I reply, rolling my eyes. "I can be friends with whoever I want. Edward isn't a bad person. His mom and his lawyer are working on an appeal. They've got to be able to get him out. They'll never find another 12 people who will convict him on so little evidence once Angela tells the truth in court. But until then, I want to be close to him."

"You really believe he's innocent?"

"I do, with all my heart," I whisper. "You've always taught me to trust my instincts, Dad."

"Fine," he sighs. "Was there anything you needed while I'm here?"

"I skipped Walmart this morning with Mrs. Cope, since I didn't know what time you'd be here."

"All right, I can take you. Maybe then you can get dinner with your old man?"

"Sounds good," I smile.

* * *

**A/N: **So, did Bella get off too easy? I think the D.A. was afraid her PTSD would garner too much sympathy from a jury and he'd never win a case against her, so why waste the money trying the case.

Remember I said at the beginning of the story that at some point, the chapters would get shorter? Well, we've reached that point. Postings will be twice a week now, Monday and Thursday, until Edward is out of prison.


	16. October 1

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Ready for a visit to the prison?

* * *

_Monday, October 1, 2012_

When did I become such a fucking _girl_? I try on four different tops before choosing an outfit to wear today, even though I know the chances that I'll be allowed to see Edward are slim to none. In any event, I'll be meeting his mother. Even if I was no more than a convenient lay to him, I care about Edward, and… I want to make a good impression on his mother.

I'm still not sure what to do with the fact that Edward wouldn't let me kiss him after he gave me the gun. Only 15 minutes earlier, he'd been kissing me and gazing at me affectionately. My initial reaction was to think he was rejecting me, but as I thought more about it, I began to realize that maybe he was trying to protect me, to keep the cops from figuring out that he and I were sexually involved. I need to talk to him.

I'm on pins and needles all morning, unable to concentrate on anything. I make myself a quick sandwich for lunch, then try to answer a few blog questions until Esme Cullen arrives. I have no idea what to expect from the woman.

When I hear a knock at the door, I jump up from the couch, laughing as Leo runs into the bedroom. Poor thing misses Edward as much as I do — my cat has been looking all over the house for him ever since the police took him away.

I answer the door to an attractive woman in her late 40's, dressed in an expensive-looking light gray pantsuit. She's about my height, thin, with caramel-colored hair flecked with specks of gray and cut into a stylish bob. Her piercing hazel eyes look me up and down.

"Mrs. Cullen?"

"Sorry, yes… I'm sorry," she stutters. "You're Isabella?"

I nod. "Please, call me Bella."

"All right, Bella. I'm sorry," she apologizes again. "You are just not what I expected."

I stare at the floor, embarrassed. She doesn't even have to explain for me to know that she was expecting someone more Edward's usual type — young and sexy. "Let me just get my coat and purse," I tell her softly.

I follow Mrs. Cullen to her car, sliding into the passenger seat. "You're really quite far out of town," she says quietly.

"Yes," I agree. "This house used to be my grandparents' vacation home."

"Oh, how nice. How long have you lived here?"

"About two and a half years."

We make small talk about the weather and the area for most of the 20-minute drive to the prison.

"Oh," she exclaims suddenly. "Do you know what's going to happen to you… legally?"

"The D.A. agreed not to press charges, thanks to my dad."

"That's great, Bella," she smiles. "I'm so glad."

After we park in the visitor lot, we walk inside the prison to check in. It feels so… cold and sterile.

"Could we get a visitor's questionnaire for Ms. Black?" she asks the female guard behind the desk. "So that she'll be able to visit my son next time."

"I'm sorry, your son will have to request that she be placed on his approved visitor list. She can't register herself as a visitor without his approval."

"Oh, all right," she replies. "Could I get his permission when I see him?"

"If he tells the guard who accompanies you, we'll give Ms. Black a form to fill out."

Mrs. Cullen nods, looking back to me. "Do you have a message for him, Bella?"

I'm caught off guard by her question. For some reason, I'm not so sure that I want Edward's mother to know how close we are. What can I tell him that doesn't give that away?

"Just tell him to be safe," I finally tell her.

She nods, giving me a small smile. I take a seat to wait while Mrs. Cullen is searched and then led back to the visit room.

A few minutes later, the guard who led her around returns, speaking quietly to the one behind the desk.

"Ms. Black?" she calls out. "Mr. Cullen did request that you be added to his approved visitor list. Here are the application and a copy of the visiting rules."

I stand and take the proffered forms, along with a clipboard and pen, then retake my seat. After reading through the visiting rules, I start to fill out the questionnaire.

The top of the form includes basic information, like my name and address. I'm a little shocked to see they want my height and weight. I don't actually know how much I weigh. The last time I was on a scale, I was four and a half months pregnant. I know my clothes are looser now than before my pregnancy, but I write down my pre-pregnancy weight.

I blanch when I reach the question asking if I've ever been involved in any illegal or criminal activity with the offender. How do I answer that? I aided and abetted him when he was on the run! It says they're going to run a background check — would that find my involvement? No charges were filed, but does anyone at the prison know of my relationship with Edward?

I continue down the page where another question wants to know how many months I have known the offender. It hasn't even been three weeks! Surely if I answer that one honestly, they'll figure out I'm the one who helped him.

I'm still trying to decide what to do when I read the notice on the top of the second page, stating that untruthful or misleading answers or deliberate omissions will be cause for my application to be rejected. There's too high of a probability that they'll find out about me — I have to tell the truth and pray that they don't reject me anyway.

I read over all of my answers and take the form up to the woman behind the desk. She glances through them and then looks up at me, one eyebrow raised. "You've known him for a month?" she asks.

I feel my face heat up. "Yes," I answer quietly.

"You're the one who harbored him after his escape."

I nod. "Will that stop me from being approved as a visitor?"

"It's not my decision," she says plainly.

Nodding again, I sit back down to wait for Mrs. Cullen. Eventually she returns, wiping at her eyes. God, I hope he's ok. I stand up, patting her arm in comfort before we walk outside together.

"Is he ok?" I ask quietly.

"He seems to be doing all right. It's just hard for me to see my son in prison."

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. _Hang on, Edward._

"Would you like to come in, Mrs. Cullen?" I ask as she pulls into my driveway 20 minutes later. She has been nothing but nice to me up until this point, but I have no idea what she's thinking after meeting with Edward. I'm not really sure I want to face possible scrutiny, but I feel like I need to be polite.

"Oh, Esme, please," she replies. "I would like to get to know you better, thank you."

I exit the car and unlock the front door, motioning her in ahead of me. "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"Tea would be great, thank you."

I begin boiling some water and we sit at my kitchen table while we wait.

"He cares about you," Esme begins quietly.

"Sorry?"

"My son cares about you. He was so worried that you were in trouble because of him. I know this sounds awful, but I've never known Edward to care so much about anyone outside the family."

Inside, my girly-girl heart is flying at her words, but I try not to let it show.

"He also said something about making sure you kept a promise you made to him?"

I smile. Of course he wouldn't forget what he made me promise. "I don't know how much Edward told you about me?"

"Quite a lot, actually. You're practically all he wanted to talk about."

And my heart soars again.

"He said you'd had some bad things happen to you in the past, though he wasn't specific."

I decide to give Esme an edited version of my story, hoping it's easier to get the words out now that I've already told someone. "Almost three years ago, I lost my husband and unborn child in a car accident," I tell her quietly.

Esme gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

"I left my life in Seattle to come here after their deaths. I have PTSD — I can't drive, as I told you over the phone. Edward made me promise to start seeing a therapist. He told me how much therapy had helped him when… when he was in prison before."

"He told you about his past," she says. It's not a question.

"Yes," I nod.

"He doesn't often open up to people. I'm glad he did. I'm glad that he found you."

The whistling of the teakettle alerts me that the water is boiling. I pour the hot water into the mug I'd prepared with a tea bag and hand it to Edward's mother.

"Thank you, dear," she smiles. "You don't want any?"

"I'm fine," I reply, shaking my head. "Mrs. Cullen — Esme — can I ask about how you and your husband came to adopt Edward? He just told me that your husband had been his doctor when he was hospitalized."

"Of course," she smiles. "Do you know that we have another son, Emmett?

"Yes," I nod, "The pro football player. We watched the game Monday night."

"My husband, Carlisle, and I had always talked about having two or three children," she continues. "Emmett was a very… difficult baby. It took months and months before he'd sleep through the night. He'd started his terrible twos by 18 months and they never seemed to end.

"Emmett caused so much trouble in kindergarten that his teacher finally asked us to take him to a child psychologist. He was diagnosed as ADHD and put on medication. It helped somewhat, but never enough that we felt like we could bring another child into the situation.

"As soon as Emmett was old enough, we began signing him up for team sports in the hopes that athletics would work off some of that excess energy. Our plan was a success and by the time Emmett was 10 or 11, he was close to 'normal'," she says, complete with air quotes.

"We thought then about having a second child, but I was well-established with my own business and Carlisle had a lot of responsibilities at the hospital… It just didn't seem like a good time to start all over again with a newborn," she finishes with a shrug.

"I understand," I reply quietly. "I'm an only child myself. My parents divorced when I was very young, and my mom didn't remarry until I was 17. Her new husband was several years younger, but she didn't want to have another child at that point in her life either."

Esme nods, before continuing, "I'll never forget the day Carlisle came home to tell me about this little boy who'd been stabbed and left for dead by his own father. My heart broke for him, especially when I found out that he'd never had a mother. Adoption wasn't anything we'd ever discussed previously, but once I heard his story, it was like I just knew that I had to try and give that boy a chance at a better life.

"You should've seen him then, Bella," she remembers with a smile. "He'd been through this awful ordeal, but he just had this will to live, this joy toward everything in life. I nicknamed him my Sunshine because of his positive attitude.

"Unfortunately, what was cute as an 11-year-old wasn't so cute by the time he was 14 or 15. He was still all about enjoying life, but he'd started hanging around with the wrong kind of kids, doing the wrong kinds of things for fun. We didn't know what to do with him. We took away his allowance, but he got a job and continued to buy drugs and alcohol. I don't believe he was ever an addict, but he just wanted to party all the time.

"It was my husband's idea to try the 'tough love' thing and kick him out shortly after his eighteenth birthday. I was never totally on board with that. I felt like the sweet little boy that we once knew was still in there somewhere."

"Edward told me you used to slip him money."

She smiles. "Yes, I did. I didn't want him to go without anything he needed or wanted. Maybe I coddled him too much, was too permissive, I don't know. It broke my heart when he was arrested for the armed robbery. Surely we'd taught him right from wrong? And the fact that he didn't feel he could come to me when he needed money?" She sighs, shaking her head.

"Once he got out of prison, he really did seem to have a new attitude. He promised he'd try not to do anything reckless, though he wouldn't promise to give up recreational drugs. He was still all about a good time, but he seemed to take his job seriously, take _life_ more seriously. I had high hopes that he could turn his life around."

"I think he did turn it around," I say gently, "Except… except he got involved with the wrong young woman."

"Ah yes, Angela Weber. I think I'd strangle her with my bare hands if I could. When the detective called me to tell me she'd changed her story…" she trails off, shaking her head. "Why couldn't she have done that _before_ he was convicted?"

"How is Edward's lawyer doing with getting the cell phone records?"

"Still working on it. We should be able to get Edward's. The Webers' counsel is trying to block access to Angela's."

"Even with her new story?"

"Yes," she replies angrily. "They're letting an innocent man rot in prison. Their lawyer is claiming that Angela's testimony means nothing — it doesn't mean Edward didn't come back to the house later and still commit the crime."

"That's what he was afraid of," I tell her. "He thought the police would believe Angela's new story and still try to pin it on him. He was shocked that they didn't even believe her."

"We'll find a way to get him out," she says definitively. "I'll never quit until justice is served."

Esme stands once she finishes her tea. "I should probably get going, so I can be back in Seattle by dinner time. I'll try to come back to visit Edward in two weeks. Your visitor application should be approved by then… unless they're going to reject you."

I nod, knowing there's no guarantee that I'll be approved.

"I'll give you a call when I know what time my visit is scheduled for, all right?"

"Thank you, Esme."

"It's my pleasure, dear," she replies with a smile. "Take care of yourself."

* * *

**A/N: **All of the info on visiting prisoners is real, from the Washington Department of Corrections website. www . doc . wa . gov / facilities / prison / sccc / default . asp

Time speeds up a lot from this point, and I promise we'll see Edward next chapter. :)


	17. October 15

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Ready for Edward?

* * *

_Monday, October 15, 2012_

Two hours. Two more hours until Esme Cullen arrives to take me to Edward.

I nearly shouted it from the rooftops when someone called me from Stafford Creek on Friday to tell me that my application had been approved and I'd been placed on Edward's approved visitor list. I'd been all but convinced that they were going to reject me.

I stand staring into my closet, wondering what I should wear for my visit. I've read over the rules on approved clothing a dozen times. I never cared what I wore in front of Edward before, so I really don't know why it matters so much now. He's never commented on my clothing one way or another… beyond wanting me to take it off.

Finally I select a thin v-neck sweater in a bright shade of blue. It'll go well with the jeans I've chosen — my best pair. They're from Walmart but they're the only pair of jeans I've bought in the last two and a half years, which means they're the only pair that somewhat fits.

As I close the closet door, I hesitate, staring at Jacob's button-down shirts and the garment bags holding his suits. When I gave myself to Edward, I let go of the past… emotionally. Maybe it's time that I physically let it go as well. Maybe it's time that I get rid of Jacob's clothing.

Once I'm dressed, I blow dry and style my hair before applying light make-up… the first time I can remember putting on make-up since I moved here. I know it's stupid, but I don't want Edward to look at me and wonder what he was thinking. I want to be more to him than just a way to pass the time, if that's even possible.

Spotting the bottle of expensive perfume my mom sent me for my birthday, I spray a little for good measure before leaving the bathroom.

I feel like I'm too nervous to eat breakfast, but I force myself to eat a couple slices of toast before moving to the living room to wait for Esme. I pet Leo while I try to concentrate on a novel on my Kindle.

Right on time at 11am, I hear a knock at the door. Jumping up from the couch, I take a deep breath before answering it.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cull—Esme," I greet her with a smile.

"Good morning, Bella! You look nice today."

"Um, thanks," I reply, hoping that my blush won't give me away. I quickly retrieve my purse and a jacket before locking up and following Esme to her car.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't able to change my appointment time," Esme begins. "When you hadn't heard anything from the prison, I assumed you weren't going to be approved, so I only got a half hour with Edward. We could go back and see him together, but I assume you might want to be alone with him?"

"Um…"

"We'll meet separately this week and then ask Edward what he prefers, all right?"

"That sounds good," I nod.

"How have you been, Bella?"

"All right," I reply. "I seem to be so tired lately. I think it's just a reaction to the absence of the adrenaline that kept me going during those two weeks. I really got used to Edward being around. I miss him, as ridiculous as that is. I miss him cooking for me."

Esme laughs. "He is an excellent cook, isn't he? He used to cook me dinner on my birthday and Mother's Day."

"That's sweet," I smile.

We ride in silence for a while as I'm lost in thought. Now that I'm just minutes from seeing Edward again, I'm starting to get really nervous. How I am supposed to act with him? Are we still "together"? Were we ever?

Will he want me to hug him? The regulations say a brief hug is allowed at the beginning and end of the visit. Should I go to him first, or let him come to me?

_Oh my God, get a grip, Bella._

By the time we're pulling into the visitor lot, I've resolved… nothing. I'm just going to play it by ear and follow Edward's lead.

Once inside, Esme and I sign in at the visitor reception desk. "You can go first, Bella," she says with a smile. "I'll have the guard bring me to the visit room in about 15 minutes, all right?"

"All right," I nod nervously.

After putting my things into a locker, I'm searched and then led through the halls by a stern-faced guard with a comb over. We go through a series of doors before he finally opens the door to the visit room, leading me to a table.

"Mr. Cullen will be in shortly," he says.

I nod, trying not to stare at the other inmates meeting with their families. What if Edward doesn't want me here, I wonder to myself. No — no, that's stupid. He asked for me to be put on his approved visitor list. He _does_ want me here.

I hear the door opening and look up, watching as Edward is led into the room. He's staring at the floor, not looking for me, and his hands are cuffed together in front of him. Once the door is closed, the guard with him unlocks the handcuffs, pulling them off.

Suddenly, Edward puts his head up, looking around the room. I hold my breath as he finally spots me.

And he _winks_.

I forget all of my plans for how this visit would go and jump up from my seat. I take a couple of careful steps in Edward's direction before launching myself at him, hugging him tightly. When I feel Edward's arms wind around me, my tears start falling.

"Ed—Edward," I sob.

"Shhh… it's ok, baby. I'm ok," he says, hugging me tighter while his hands rub up and down my back. I feel his lips press briefly on the top of my head before he pulls back slightly. I look up at him, lost in his beautiful green eyes. He smiles, brushing my tears away with his finger.

"Let's sit down, ok?" he suggests.

Nodding, I release my death grip on him and retake my seat. Edward sits beside me, immediately grabbing for my hand.

"Did ya miss me?" he asks with a smirk.

I can't help it — I laugh. "I don't know whether to kiss you or slap you!"

"Slap me, huh? Kinky," he replies with a wink. I just stare at him. "Why would you slap me?" he finally asks, realizing I'm serious.

"You held a gun to my head, Edward," I whisper-yell.

"It wasn't loaded."

"I didn't know that at the time!"

"Baby, did you really believe I would risk something like that?" he asks, squeezing my hand.

"I didn't know what to believe," I answer honestly. "What were you _thinking_?"

He shrugs. "Well, I was hoping I'd be able to sneak out of the bedroom and hide in the bathroom. And then I just panicked."

"Did you think they'd somehow let you go if you threatened my life?" I ask curiously.

"No, not really. But I didn't want you to go down with me. I had to try and make them think you had no choice except to help me," he explains.

Suddenly, I'm picturing myself as a cartoon character with a light bulb above my head. "You were trying to protect me? _That's_ why you wouldn't let me kiss you?"

"Of course it is!"

"It didn't work."

"What do you mean?"

"One of the cops saw the hickey you gave me that morning."

"Oops," he replies with a smirk, lifting my hair off my left shoulder. "It's gone now," he adds with a pout.

I glare at him.

"But you're ok, right?" he asks. "Mom said last time that they didn't press charges."

"No, they didn't."

"That's good," he breathes. "I couldn't deal with it if something happened to you because of me."

I stare down at our joined hands. Edward's fingers are playing with mine, and I can't help remembering what his fingers are capable of.

"So what happened after I left?" he asks suddenly, halting my completely inappropriate thoughts.

"Officer Embry took me down to the station to ask me some questions. Then he said he had to wait for the D.A. to get back to decide if they were going to press charges."

"What made them decide not to?"

"I, um, called my dad, and he talked to the D.A. and his buddy on the Aberdeen force. They all showed up at my house on Friday to ask me a few more questions. They wanted to know why I helped you, of course."

"What did you tell them?" he asks curiously.

"The truth — that I couldn't end someone else's life."

"Isabella," he warns.

"I know—"

"Did you find a therapist yet?" he asks sternly.

"No," I answer quietly. "How would I get to an appointment?"

"Mrs. Cope?"

I shake my head. "No, Edward. I can't impose on her more than I already do."

"You promised me, Isabella. You're lucky I can't turn you over my knee."

"What?!"

He laughs. "You should see your face right now."

"My dad wanted me to go home to Forks with him and start therapy," I confess.

"So why didn't you? Maybe it's a good idea."

"But you're _here_! How would I get back to see you?"

He rolls his eyes. "So go back to Seattle and find a therapist. You could get a ride to the prison with Mom the same way you do now."

My eyes widen. Go back to Seattle? I've always assumed that I'd go back someday, but am I ready for that? "Do you think I could really do that?" I whisper.

"Bella," he begins, squeezing my hand, "You are stronger than you realize. I believe in you. You need to move forward and live again. I'm sure Mom would be happy to let you come with her when she visits."

"Is that… is that what you want? I mean, you want me to come back to see you?"

"Of course I do," he replies, his brow furrowed. "Why would you even question that?"

"Because…"

"Because why?" he prompts, lifting my chin with his finger until I'm looking him in the eye.

I open my mouth to speak, but I don't know what to say. _Are you my boyfriend?_ seems so… forward. _What am I to you?_ Should I ask him that?

"Mr. Cullen." A guard's voice interrupts. "Your next visitor?"

I look up and see Esme waiting by the door next to the guard. Reluctantly, I stand up to leave, and Edward quickly stands as well.

"I'll see you in two weeks?" I ask quietly.

He nods, holding his arms open. I step into his embrace, snuggling close to him and breathing in his scent. Edward grasps my chin with one hand until I'm looking up at him, then captures my lips with his. I'm momentarily stunned that he's kissing me — in front of the guards, in front of his _mother_. But then I return his kiss eagerly.

Edward holds my face in both of his hands, kissing me passionately before pulling away all too quickly. He places one more soft chaste kiss on my lips, before leaning his forehead against mine. "Take care of yourself, ok baby?"

"You too," I whisper.

"I'll be fine, Bella. Don't worry about me. But I don't want any more excuses on why you haven't gotten help."

I roll my eyes, but nod.

"Pet Leo for me, all right?" he adds with a grin as he pulls away.

I grudgingly unwrap my arms from around him, knowing that we've got to be breaking the rules right now. Edward gives my hand a final squeeze before I pull my hand out of his and make my way to the door. I can't look Esme in the eye as I pass her. I watch as she hugs Edward briefly before they both take their seats.

I nod at the guard and he uses a keycard to open the door, escorting me out of the visit room. I brush away my tears, feeling absolutely ridiculous for crying. I'll see Edward again in two weeks.

Once I retrieve my things from the locker, I take a seat in the small waiting area near the check-in desk, waiting for Esme. My lips are tingling from Edward's parting kiss. I still haven't settled the question of what exactly we are to each other, but that kiss let me know that he still desires me… physically, at least.

I know that I need to listen to him and find a therapist. If not here, then am I ready to go back to Seattle? Am I ready to rejoin the world — without Edward for support?

"Bella?" Esme's voice startles me from my thoughts. "Are you ready to go?"

Nodding, I stand and put my jacket on, following Esme out to the parking lot.

"I never got a chance to ask Edward about his case," I admit sheepishly once I'm buckled into the passenger seat.

"Oh! His lawyer got the cell phone records on Friday," she says excitedly. "Both Edward's and Angela's. They prove that Edward made one call to Angela's phone, and Angela made two calls to his, including one just three days before her mother's murder. Mr. Marks is putting together their request for a new trial right now."

"That's great," I reply with a smile. We're one step closer to getting Edward out of prison.

"Are you hungry, Bella?" Esme asks as we cross the bridge from the south shore into Aberdeen. "Would you like to stop at a restaurant somewhere?"

"Sure, yeah, I'm starving. I was too nervous to eat much for breakfast this morning. Turn left at the stop sign and there's a really good cafe a few blocks down. I eat there with my dad sometimes when he's in town."

Once we're seated, I take a sip of my water and look over the menu.

"Esme, would you mind ordering me a chicken salad wrap if the waitress comes by? I need to use the restroom."

"Oh, of course, dear."

As I wash my hands afterward, I realize my lip gloss is smudged from when Edward kissed me. I quickly fix it, noticing my face flush. Esme was a doll to not say anything and embarrass me even more.

When I retake my seat, I notice the menus are gone.

"So," Esme begins, "You and Edward are romantically involved?"

I feel my face heat up. "Um, yes."

"I suspected as much last time from the way he talked about you. There's no need to look so sheepish — I know my son can be charming."

"Oh, yes—yes, he can be charming, all right. But it's more than that. Edward came along at a time in my life when I really needed him. He taught me how to live again."

"You've had a rough time since… since the accident," Esme says quietly.

I nod.

"Would you tell me more about yourself, Bella? I feel like I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here," she chuckles. "It's obvious that you're a bit older than Edward, but I think he needs someone with that maturity."

"Um, I'm 30," I answer. "He, um, showed up on my birthday. That's why I opened the door to him — I thought it was UPS delivering a gift."

"You must've gotten quite a shock to see an escaped prisoner!"

"Yeah… I remember being too stunned to even scream."

"Oh dear," she remarks. "I hope he didn't frighten you too badly."

"I was pretty much terrified," I admit, "But he told me right away that he wouldn't hurt me. He was never threatening or anything like that."

"That's good," she smiles. "You told me last time that you're from Seattle?"

"Not originally, but I went to U-Dub and then settled in Seattle."

"Do you have a job? If you don't mind my asking," she quickly adds.

"Not now. Not since…" I shake my head. "I was a vet."

"A vet? A veterinarian?" I nod. "Wow, that's… not what I expected. I'm sure this is completely none of my business, but how are you able to live without a job?"

"My husband's life insurance," I answer quietly.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry."

"I know I can't live on the insurance money forever. And I won't. I know it's time to think about going back to the world, moving back to Seattle. Finding a therapist," I add.

"Will you tell me about your husband?"

I nod. "His name was Jacob. We were high school sweethearts. He studied Economics at U-Dub and then went on to law school."

"Your husband was a lawyer?" Esme asks in shock.

"In corporate law, yes. He was on the fast track to partner. We had it all." Or I'd thought we did.

"Could you tell me more about the accident?" she asks tentatively.

I take a deep breath, hoping I can get it out without breaking down. "The day of my ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby, we went out for dinner with some friends to celebrate," I begin. "Jasper Whitlock was my colleague at work, and his wife, Alice Brandon-Whitlock, is my best friend."

"Alice Brandon? That name sounds familiar."

"She's an interior designer," I reply.

"Oh! Yes, I've seen her work. She's very talented. I'd love to have her working for me, but I think she's destined to have her own business one day."

"Alice is a force of nature," I laugh. "I remember that she was so excited that night, ready to start planning how to decorate the nursery." I take another deep breath before continuing. "Anyway, we typically split a couple bottles of wine with dinner, but I couldn't drink, of course. Jake had my share."

"Oh my… you don't have to go any further, Bella. I can imagine what happened."

"No," I reply softly. "You can't. It was a cold night in January, light sleet falling. I saw Jake stumble a bit as we left the restaurant, and I offered to drive."

"Oh no…" she gasps.

"I lost control when the car slid on a patch of ice. When I woke up in the hospital, my husband and baby were both gone."

I take a deep breath, trying hard not to cry. I'm thankful when the waitress interrupts, setting our plates on the table. We both thank her then begin eating.

"Bella, I am so, so sorry," Esme says after a few minutes of silence. "I know I can't begin to imagine what you've been through."

"Losing them was bad enough, but knowing that it was all my fault…"

"Of course it wasn't your fault," she says vehemently. "It was a terrible accident."

"Everyone told me that, but it was only when Edward told me the same thing that I started to believe it might be true."

"It _is_ true. You can't blame yourself, Bella. I understand now why Edward wants you to see a therapist."

I smile, taking another bite of my wrap.

"You know," Esme begins, "I might be able to help you with that. My husband is a doctor, as you know. I can ask him if there's someone he can recommend."

"That would be great, thanks," I smile. "Maybe… maybe I'll call a real estate agent and start looking into homes in Seattle. Something close to public transportation, since I'm not sure how long it'll take for me to feel comfortable behind the wheel again. If I ever do."

"Would you go back to work?"

"If I can," I nod. "I know the veterinary hospital hired someone to replace me, so I doubt I can get my old job back."

"I'm sure you'll be able to find something."

Once we take care of the check — Esme insists on paying — we get back into the car for the ride home.

"Esme," I begin quietly as we near my house, "There's more if you want to come in."

"More?"

"More about the accident — about why it's my fault."

Her eyes narrow but she nods, shutting off the engine.

"Tea?" I ask once we're inside.

"No, thank you, I'm fine."

Esme and I sit on the couch, and I'm glad for my cat's nosiness. I pick him up and begin petting him as he noses around us. I need the distraction.

"Do you believe in karma, Mrs. Cullen?"

"Do I—yes, I do, in a way."

"My husband's legal assistant had a thing for him."

"A thing?" she asks, brow furrowed.

"She wanted him," I clarify. "He swore to me that there was nothing between them, and I believed him, but I became convinced that it was only a matter of time.

"Jacob's mom had left his father for another man when he was just a child, and he swore that he would never do something like that to his own wife and child. And so I… I decided to have a child."

Esme gasps. "You're saying you got pregnant on purpose?"

"Yes," I nod. "I stopped taking my birth control pills without telling Jake. He did want children, but he'd wanted to wait until he made partner before having a baby."

"But that would've been years!" she exclaims.

"Yeah," I agree with a small smile. "Once he got over the shock, he seemed mostly ambivalent about my pregnancy, at least I'd thought he was, but he was so excited once we found out it was a boy. I thought my plan had worked and everything was going to be fine.

"I believe that… I was dishonest in my attempt to hold on to Jake, and so karma took them both away from me."

"Oh, Bella, no… You're hardly the first woman to have a baby in an attempt to save a relationship. And I'm sure it's successful some percentage of the time."

"It was a little more than a little white lie though, wasn't it? I played with our lives and it cost me."

Esme moves closer to me on the couch, putting her arm around me. "You can't keep blaming yourself for this, Bella dear."

"But don't you see? If not for my pregnancy, we wouldn't have even been out on the roads that night. My actions led to both of their deaths."

"You don't know that! Maybe you would've gone out with your friends anyway, if it was a common thing."

I look at Mrs. Cullen and see the element of truth in what she's saying. I suppose I _don't_ know what we would've been doing that night had I not been pregnant.

"But I would've been able to drink," I say quietly.

"And maybe the same accident would've occurred with Jake behind the wheel," she replies.

I nod. "Maybe," I whisper.

* * *

**A/N: **So did the visit go like you expected?

Next chapter will be up on Thursday, and it's an important one!


	18. October 29

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

So some of you have "theories"...

* * *

_Monday, October 29, 2012_

Oh my God, what is that pounding?

I blink my eyes open, confused as to why I'm lying on the kitchen floor. The pounding sounds again and I realize it's someone knocking on my front door. I hear the muffled voice of someone calling my name from outside.

I slowly get to my knees, and holding on to the kitchen chair for support, I pull myself to my feet. Oh holy shit, I am dizzy. I take a deep breath and then try to take a step. With one hand on the wall, I finally make it to the front door and begin unlocking the deadbolts.

"Bella!" Esme gasps once I've thrown the door open. "Oh my God, are you all right?"

Looking down, I realize I'm still in my pajamas. "I'm sorry… I have a 24-hour bug or something."

Esme steps inside, holding her hand to my forehead. "Your skin is so clammy. My goodness, sit down," she says, helping me to the couch.

"What time is it?"

"It's five minutes after 11. We really need to leave soon to see Edward."

I lean my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes. "All right. I'll get dressed."

"Bella, dear… I don't think you should go. You look awful. I'll just go by myself and let Edward know that you're sick, all right?"

I nod. I can't imagine standing up right now.

"Where are your keys?" she asks.

"My keys?"

"I'll come back and check on you after I see Edward. I can just let myself in, so you don't have to get up."

"Oh, all right. Side of my purse," I tell her, pointing toward the desk.

After Esme leaves, I stretch out on the couch. Leo hops up to join me and I pet him absently. I must fall asleep, because I open my eyes to Esme shaking my shoulder lightly.

"I stopped by that cafe from last time and brought you some lunch, if you're feeling up to it," she says gently.

"Thank you," I reply as I slowly sit up.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Just a bottle of water."

Esme returns moments later with two water bottles, opening up the take-out bag on the coffee table. "I brought you the chicken salad wrap that you ate last time. I hope that's ok."

"It's great, thanks."

I pick up the wrap and pull back the foil so that I can take a bite. Almost as soon as I've swallowed it, I realize what a bad idea eating was.

My hand over my mouth, I stumble into the bathroom, heaving into the toilet. I remain on my knees, feeling like every meal I've eaten in the past week is on its way up. Tears prick at my eyes and I cough and sputter. When I think I'm finished, I reach up, flushing the toilet.

I'm startled when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "I thought you might want this," Esme says quietly, holding my bottle of water out to me. Nodding my thanks, I untwist the plastic top and take a long swig.

"I'll just wait for you outside."

I hold on to the sink, pulling myself to my feet, and quickly brush my teeth. "I'm sorry," I whisper as I take my seat on the couch again. "I guess… I guess it wasn't a great idea to try and eat."

Esme nods, giving me a small smile. "How long have you been feeling sick?"

I think back to the first time I felt nauseated. "Um, since Friday morning, but I'm much worse today."

"Friday?" Esme gasps. "That's no 24-hour bug, sweetheart."

"Maybe I ate something bad?"

"I don't think food poisoning lasts for four days, either."

I shrug. I'm sure it's just the stomach flu or something.

"Bella?" Esme begins quietly. "Is there… is there a chance that you might be pregnant?"

My heart skips a beat. "Pr—pregnant? No, no…" God no, I can't be _pregnant_.

"There's no chance?" she asks skeptically. "You and Edward were never… intimate?"

I'm sure my blush gives me away. "We used condoms," I whisper.

She nods. "Every time?"

"Yes," I reply, "Of course. Of course we always used… "

Esme just raises her eyebrow, staring at me when I trail off.

"There was one time," I whisper. "But he…" — oh my God, this conversation is embarrassing with Edward's mother — "he pulled out," I finally finish. You could probably fry an egg on my face right now.

"I see. When was your last period, Bella?"

"My last…" I think back, trying to remember. "A few weeks ago," I tell her. "Before I saw Edward at the prison."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! I remember it was… it was lighter than usual, from all the stress, I guess."

"A _lot_ lighter?"

"I… I guess," I reply. What is she getting at?

"Bella, sometimes women who are newly pregnant experience spotting that can mimic a light period. It was years ago, but I remember it myself from when I was expecting Emmett."

"I'm not pregnant, Mrs. Cullen. I'd know if I was! I've been pregnant before, and I never really had any morning sickness. That's not what this is," I insist.

"Every pregnancy is different, Bella."

I look up at her helplessly. This cannot be happening.

"I think you should take a pregnancy test," she says softly. "If there's a chance, you need to know so that you can get prenatal care."

I nod, feeling my breaths begin to quicken. She's right, of course she's right. I've already had a miscarriage — if I _am_ pregnant, I need to make sure everything is ok.

"I'll just run out to the Walmart and buy you a test, all right? Hang tight."

"Oh my God," I scream seconds after Esme closes the door behind her. "This can't be happening!"

No, no, no… we were careful! I wouldn't let Edward touch me until he bought condoms! But that time I had the nightmare about Jacob, we didn't plan it, we just… came together. He pulled out, I remember that he did. But if I think about it, I realize just how close it was. Maybe too close.

Could we have made a baby that night?

_Calm down, Bella._ There's no point in getting worked up about it until we know for sure. Esme could be wrong. It's just speculation. I have the stomach flu, not morning sickness.

Leo stares at me from the floor before jumping up onto my lap. I pet him carefully, feeling myself calm with each stroke. I'm taking deep even breaths when I hear the front door opening. I turn my head, watching as Esme steps into the living room.

"I got the test," she says quietly. "I know they say they're more effective first thing in the morning, so I got one with two sticks. You can try again in the morning if it's negative."

I nod, standing up to take the plastic bag from her. "I'll, um… I'll let you know," I finish lamely.

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I pull the box out of the bag and read through all of the directions on the package before tearing the box open. Then I read through the entire pamphlet inside the box before I feel ready to try it.

Once I've peed on the stick, I set it carefully on top of the sink and flush the toilet. I close the lid and sit down, wishing I had a watch so that I could see when it's been two minutes.

"Bella," Esme calls, knocking softly on the bathroom door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes."

She steps into the tiny room, looking at me expectantly.

"I haven't looked yet. I'm not sure if it's been two minutes."

"Do you want me to look?"

I nod, swallowing thickly. Esme peers at the stick, and I know the result the moment her hand flies to her mouth.

I lean over, examining the stick myself. I have to see it with my own eyes. There's a plus sign in the box — pregnant.

"Would 'congratulations' be the correct sentiment?" she asks quietly.

"I'm having a baby," I whisper, needing to hear the words to believe that they're true.

"My grandchild," she adds.

My head is spinning. "I don't… know what to do now."

"Do you want the baby?" she asks quietly.

I look up at her in shock. "I could never… Of course I want it! How could you—"

"Bella, calm down," she says firmly, her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I had to ask. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know what it's like to lose a child, Mrs. Cull—Esme. I could never in a million years think of not having this baby."

"All right," she nods. "Then… I think you need to start packing."

"What?" What on earth is she talking about?

"You need to see a doctor. Why don't you come back to Seattle with me? You were looking into moving back, right?"

"Yes, but… I haven't found a place. I've just looked at photos of a few homes on the internet."

"Carlisle and I have plenty of room. You can stay in Edward's old room, or in one of our guest rooms," she adds quickly.

"Oh, no, I—I couldn't impose like that. You hardly know me."

"It's no imposition, Bella. You're pregnant with our first grandchild — you're family now. The health of you and that baby is the most important thing right now."

Of course she's right once again. Making sure that my baby is ok is the _only_ thing that matters right now. If it's too awkward staying with the Cullens, I could always call Alice and Jasper, or just get a hotel room.

I stand up slowly, hoping that I don't get dizzy again. Esme follows me into the bedroom and helps me get my suitcases from the closet.

"I'll help you pack, all right?"

I nod, letting Esme handle my laptop and bathroom items while I pack up my clothes. I can fit most of them into my two large suitcases. I decide to leave my "summer" clothes — not that there's really a summer in the Pacific Northwest — until we come back to see Edward in two weeks.

"Do you have a carrier for your cat?"

Leo, shit! "Um, yeah, it's out in the mudroom. Is it ok to bring him?"

"Well, you can't leave him here," she chuckles. "Carlisle and I aren't allergic, so it's fine."

"Did you want me to clean out your food?" Esme calls from the kitchen a few minutes later.

"I don't have much, I don't think. I wasn't feeling up to shopping last Friday." I hear Esme begin pulling out the handful of items from the fridge that could go bad. I can get the rest later.

Once we've got everything packed up and set in front of the door, I pick up Leo, who is eyeing the carrier with distaste. The moment I close him inside, he begins crying loudly. He did the same thing when I took him to the vet to be neutered, and when he gets his yearly shots. I hope he doesn't cry for the entire two-hour drive back to Seattle.

Esme drives a large SUV, so there's plenty of room for all of my things in the back once she folds the back row of seats down. I place Leo's carrier in the backseat where I can keep an eye on him. He's still crying, though he's quieted somewhat. He's going to be hoarse before we reach Olympia.

"What is your husband going to say?" I ask quietly.

"Well, he'll be shocked, I'm sure. But I've told him about you, about Edward's feelings for you."

"You think he has feelings for me?" I ask quietly.

"Of course he does! It's beyond obvious. I could tell how disappointed he was that you weren't there today."

I nod, not completely sure that I believe her. I can't even begin to think of Edward's reaction when he finds out I'm pregnant. What if he thinks I ruined his life? What if he doesn't want either of us? Will Esme still want me to stay with them if he rejects me?

When we arrive in Seattle, I'm shocked at the gorgeous suburban home on Mercer Island that Esme pulls up to. "Your home is beautiful." I can only imagine what the interior looks like.

"Thank you, dear. It's our dream home. We've lived here since shortly after we adopted Edward. I decorated it myself, of course."

Esme helps me with my bags, and after several trips we have everything inside. "Let me show you to Edward's room," she says, leading me toward the stairs after we each pick up a suitcase.

"Here you are," she says, opening the door. I look around at what seems to be a typical teenage boy's bedroom. "I never really changed it after he moved out," she says with a shrug. "Always hoping he'd come back, I suppose. If you'd feel more comfortable in one of the guest rooms, I can show you one of those. This one has an en suite bath though."

"This is fine, thanks." In some strange way, I feel like I can learn more about Edward by staying in his room.

Back downstairs, I wonder what to do about Leo. "The sun porch?" Esme suggests. She picks up the box with his litter box and food while I bring the carrier. Esme closes the French doors to the room and I open the carrier. Leo goes rushing out, sniffing around the tiled floor of the room. "Once he's comfortable, maybe we'll let him have the run of the house," she adds with a smile.

I smile and nod, but I don't intend to take advantage of her hospitality long enough for Leo to get comfortable. "Do you mind if I take a nap?"

"Oh, of course not. I'll wake you up at dinner time, once Carlisle gets home, all right? Are you feeling like you'll be able to eat dinner?"

"I think so," I nod. "I'm feeling much better than I did earlier."

I grab a couple more bags on my way upstairs, setting them in the room before flopping onto the bed. This entire situation is surreal. I'm going to have a baby — Edward's baby.

The time I had that nightmare is the most likely time for… conception, but really, it could've been any one of the numerous times we had sex. What if I didn't put the condom on correctly the one time Edward asked me to do it? What if it's _my_ fault?

No, it's no one's fault. It's not like pregnancy is some horrible thing that someone needs to take the blame for. This is my second chance to be a mother. I'm getting a second chance that I wasn't sure I'd ever have. Maybe… maybe karma decided that I had paid enough?

* * *

"Bella?" Esme's voice wakes me from my nap. I sit up, stretching. "Dinner is ready."

"All right, I'll be right down." She nods, and I quickly use the bathroom then run my fingers through my hair. I'm startled to see Esme waiting outside the bedroom door for me.

"I told Carlisle already," she says. "I just wanted you to know."

I follow Esme downstairs into the large eating area off the gorgeous, designer kitchen. A handsome blond man who appears to be around 50 years old sits at the head of the table, nodding toward me as I step into the room.

"H—hello. I'm Bella," I say quietly, holding my hand out to him.

"Carlisle Cullen, it's nice to meet you," he replies, shaking my hand with a friendly smile.

I take my seat, feeling a bit like I'm on display. Esme sets a plate of baked chicken, rice and mixed vegetables in front of me and I thank her quietly. I take a tentative bite and feel fine.

After several minutes of enduring Carlisle's surreptitious glances, I decide to confront the elephant in the room head on. "I know I'm not Edward's usual type."

He gives me a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry. Esme warned me, but… seeing is believing, I suppose. It looks like he may have finally grown up."

"Are you feeling ok, dear?" Esme asks once we're nearly finished.

"Yes, I'm fine. Nothing like earlier today."

"Good, good," she smiles.

Carlisle clears his throat. "Do you need my help in finding a doctor?"

"Oh, um, I'll just call my doctor from before I left Seattle. If she's unavailable, then yes, I'd appreciate that."

"Esme tells me you had a miscarriage previously?"

"Um, yes, but it—it was trauma induced. At the time, my doctor felt that it wouldn't affect my ability to have future children."

Once I've eaten all I can, I slip onto the sun porch to feed Leo and pet him for a while. "I know you're confused," I tell him. "I'm sorry about the move. We'll get settled in our own place soon, all right?"

"How's he doing?" Esme asks, joining me in the room.

"He seems less freaked out than earlier."

"Good, that's good. You know, pregnant women aren't supposed to clean a cat's litter box. I can take care of that for you."

"Oh, I don't want to put you out! Besides, I'll have to do it myself once I find my own place."

"It's fine, Bella; I insist. And who knows, maybe Edward will be out of prison by then."

"Yeah, maybe," I smile. But does that mean he'd want anything to do with me?

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, I always say that I don't like to write cliché things, but, well, this is the way the story came to me.

Bella isn't so sure about what Edward will think when he finds out. What do _you_ think?


	19. November 1

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Thanks for the incredible response to the last chapter! Many of you reviewed for the first time. I'm always happy to hear from you. :)

* * *

_Thursday, November 1, 2012_

I have to sit on my hands to stop myself from drumming my fingers on the arms of the chair as I wait for my name to be called. I was thrilled when I called my previous OB/GYN on Tuesday and learned that she had had a cancellation and would be able to squeeze me in.

Esme took the morning off work to drive me to the appointment. When she asked if she could come in with me to see the doctor, I readily agreed. If there's even the slightest bit of bad news, I am definitely going to need the support. I've known about the baby for less than 72 hours, but I already love it.

"Isabella Black?"

I jump up when my name is called, my heart beating madly. Esme's hand on my shoulder calms me minutely.

Once I take a seat in the examining room, a nurse checks my blood pressure then draws a small vial of blood. I have to look away so that I don't pass out. Funny I'm only squeamish when it comes to the sight of my _own_ blood. Before she leaves, she hands me a small cup, pointing out the bathroom so that I can give a urine sample.

"Bella!" Dr. Senna exclaims when she steps into the examining room a few minutes later. "I have to admit, I was surprised to see your name on my list of appointments for the day."

"Hi, Doctor," I reply sheepishly, smiling back at the tall, dark-skinned woman. "I've just moved back to Seattle. Um, this is Esme Cullen," I add, pointing to where Esme is sitting. "She's, um, the baby's grandmother."

"Nice to meet you," she smiles at Esme. "So, Bella, you think you might be pregnant?"

"Yes," I nod. "I took a home test on Monday."

"What made you suspect that you were pregnant?"

"Four days of feeling sick, mostly. I've also been really tired, but… I didn't connect the dots until after taking the test."

"All right," she nods. "Do you know how far along you might be? Do you know the date of conception?" She hands me a small pocket calendar from on top of the counter. "Use this if it'll help."

I flip back to September. I know Edward and I first had sex on a Sunday. "Um… between September 23 and 26," I tell her, glancing over at Esme. I wonder if she's judging me based on how long it took Edward to get in my pants.

"Hmmm, all right," she begins, turning the pages of the calendar, "That would put you in your eighth week. It's a little bit soon, but given your history, I think we'll do an ultrasound so that we can see the baby. Sound good?"

"Yes, that sounds great."

A few minutes later, my pants are unbuttoned so that my doctor can spread cool gel along my abdomen. She moves a wand over my skin, and I gasp when an image appears on the screen.

"Well, that confirms your pregnancy," she says with a smile. I glance over at Esme and notice her wiping a tear from her eye.

Dr. Senna measures several areas on the screen, making some notations in my chart while I wait nervously.

"Everything looks great, Bella. Your uterus is the size it should be. There don't seem to be any problems."

"So my past miscarriage won't affect this pregnancy at all?" I ask, holding my breath.

"I can't see a reason why it would, but I think I'll probably do more frequent ultrasounds than normal, just to be sure," she explains.

"Ok," I nod. "I'm sorry in advance that I'm probably going to be a very nervous pregnant woman."

"It's fine," she laughs. "Just remember that you were having a perfectly healthy pregnancy last time and extraordinary circumstances caused your miscarriage. It wasn't a problem with your body or the baby, ok?"

"I know," I nod.

"Forgive me if it's none of my business, but… this pregnancy was unplanned?"

"Yes," I whisper. "Birth control fail." I shrug. I know our failure to use it every single time was likely the problem. "But I want the baby."

"All right," she smiles sympathetically. "Then we'll need to get you started right away with a prenatal vitamin and folic acid."

Esme leaves the room while Dr. Senna gets a quick pap smear. Once I'm re-dressed, she walks me out to the receptionist.

"I'd like to see you again in about a month," she says. "We'll do another blood test and ultrasound then. I'll call you with the results of today's tests."

"Thank you," I smile.

"Try not to get too stressed out, all right?"

I nod, waving to the doctor before making an appointment for the first week of December. I am just getting into my coat when my phone rings.

"Hello?" I answer, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"_Hey, stranger,_" Alice says. I can hear the usual smile in her voice.

"Alice," I sigh.

"_You know, you have been putting me off on visiting you for over a month now. I am not taking 'no' for an answer anymore! I'm coming to see you on Saturday whether you like it or not._"

"Well, you can try, but I won't be there," I chuckle.

"_What do you mean?_" Alice asks, confused.

"I'm in Seattle."

"_What?! You've moved back and didn't tell me?_"

"It was, um, kind of sudden. I haven't bought a place yet — just staying with a friend for now."

"_A friend who isn't me?_" Crap. Alice sounds offended.

"It's a long story, Alice."

"_Where are you? I have no appointments scheduled until two o'clock. We're doing lunch._"

"I'm in Bellevue. Do you want me to meet you somewhere?" I glance over at Esme, and she nods at me.

"_Oooh, Bellevue — that's where my favorite sushi place is!_"

"Um, no sushi." Even if I could keep it down, raw fish isn't recommended for pregnant woman. "How about The Crab Pot?"

"_Oh yum, that sounds good. I'll meet you there at noon?_"

"Sure, see you then."

"I'm so sorry," I tell Esme, stuffing my phone back into my purse. "That was my best friend, Alice. I, um, guess I'm going to get a chance to practice telling other people about my pregnancy."

Esme laughs. "Did you want me to drop you off at the restaurant? Will you be able to get back to our house all right? I do have to go into the office this afternoon."

"Yeah, I should be able to have Alice bring me to your house. She says she's free until two."

The Crab Pot is less than a five-minute drive from the medical center. I say goodbye to Esme as she drops me off, then step inside the busy restaurant to put my name in for a table.

I've just been seated and ordered an ice water — no more caffeine for me — when Alice arrives. I wave to her as she stands in the entryway looking around for me. When Alice reaches the table, I stand up and hug her — I've missed my best friend.

"It's so good to see you," she squeals, squeezing me tightly. "But you'd better have a damn good reason why I'm only just finding out about this," she adds as she takes her seat.

Alice orders an iced tea when the waitress brings my water, then places her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her folded hands. "Explain," she demands.

I stall for time, sipping my water, then taking a deep breath. "I've only been back in Seattle since Monday," I begin quietly. "I'd been looking into homes on the internet for a week or so, but the move back was very sudden."

"Why so sudden?" she asks curiously.

"I, um, needed to see a doctor."

Alice eyes grow wide. "Bella, are you sick? Oh my God!"

"No, no, I'm not sick," I clarify hastily. "I'm, um… I'm pregnant."

Alice's mouth falls open as she stares at me in shock. Maybe there was a way to ease into that a little bit more.

Before she can pounce, the waitress returns with Alice's iced tea, ready to take our order.

"Just the clam chowder in a bread loaf for me, please," I order quietly. _Maybe_ I can keep soup down. My queasiness seems to let up around 3pm, but that's still three hours from now.

"I'll have the crab cakes," Alice orders with a smile. The moment the waitress disappears, so does her smile. I swallow thickly, waiting for the explosion.

"What the hell did you just say?" she whisper-yells. "How can you be pregnant when you never leave your house or see anyone? Who's the father?"

I debate trying to ease her into it, but I'm afraid that if I tell the story from the beginning, Alice may get the wrong impression about how things went down. Best to just come out with it.

"Edward Cullen is the father."

"What?!" she screams, getting the attention of the diners at several surrounding tables. "The guy who killed that reverend's wife?" she asks more quietly.

"He didn't k—You know who he is?"

"Of course I do. His mother is a local interior designer who owns her own firm. I paid attention to the news stories after his arrest since I knew of her. Oh my God, Bella, he is beyond hot!"

I gape at her. Alice thinks Edward is hot? And _this_ is what she chooses to focus on?

"The real question is how _you_ could possibly know the guy when _he's in prison_," she adds. Well, that's more like it.

"You know that he escaped on his way to prison?" She nods. "Well, he escaped from custody about a mile from my house and ended up on my doorstep. I gave him refuge."

"You let an escaped convict stay with you? Are you _insane_? I mean, I know the guy's hot, but…" She trails off, shaking her head.

"He told me he was innocent, Alice. And I believe him. I couldn't send him to jail."

"So you said, 'Sure, you can just stay with me, no one will find you here,'" she replies sarcastically.

I sigh. "It wasn't quite like that."

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" she suggests.

"Fine," I agree with another sigh. "I just didn't want you to hear the beginning of the story and think the worst or something."

"I promise to reserve all judgment until the end."

I raise one eyebrow; there's no way _that_ will happen.

"So like I said," I continue, "Edward escaped from custody and ended up at my house. I opened the door thinking it was a delivery with my mom's birthday gift and he burst in — dressed in orange with his hands cuffed together."

"Weren't you terrified?" she asks, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, I was," I remember. "But he swore he wouldn't hurt me. He told me that he needed help with the handcuffs and different clothes, then he'd leave."

"And so you agreed to help him."

"Yeah," I nod, rubbing my temple with my fingers. "I found out a little bit later that he'd been shot during his escape." Alice gasps. "The wound wasn't that serious, but he wouldn't let me clean it. He, um, passed out just before bedtime.

"The next morning was my usual trip to Walmart, so I bought him some clothes and told a little white lie to the nurse on staff in the pharmacy so I could get an antibiotic for him. Then I removed the handcuffs using the online tutorials he'd found before he passed out."

"So you nursed him back to health?" Alice asks. "That's kinda sweet. He's lucky he found someone who was somewhat qualified."

"Yeah. After a few days, he was able to be up and around somewhat. He told me about his case, how he'd been convicted on circumstantial evidence. But then he realized that he wasn't going to be able to leave."

"Of course he could leave!"

"How?" I ask. "He couldn't hitchhike with his face all over the news. I couldn't drive him somewhere and drop him off."

"He could've taken the truck."

"Yeah… I don't know why he didn't. Anyway, he stayed and we became… friends."

Alice scoffs. "I think you were more than friends if you're carrying his baby."

Before I can reply, the server returns with our meals. I take a tentative spoonful of my soup and manage to hold it down.

"What happened to your usual seafood pasta?" Alice asks curiously.

I shake my head. "There's no way I'd keep that down."

Her eyes widen. "You have morning sickness?" she asks, surprised. "I mean, I was sick as a dog for four months with Josh, but I don't think you threw up once when you were — oh shit, should I not have mentioned before?"

"It's fine, Alice," I reply quietly. "I explained everything to Edward and I'm doing a little better."

"He knows _everything_?" she asks skeptically.

"Yeah," I nod. "He wants me to see a therapist. That's actually why I was initially looking into moving back to Seattle, even before I found out I was pregnant."

"Well, hallelujah — maybe he's not so bad after all."

"He's not," I say emphatically, giving her the side eye. "He's innocent."

"I remember reading that he'd been captured… how long was he staying with you?"

"About two weeks before the police showed up."

"The police came to your house? Oh my God, what about you?" Alice gasps. "Did you get in any trouble for aiding and abetting, or whatever the charge would be?"

"My dad talked the Aberdeen police and D.A. into not pressing charges," I explain. "I was very lucky," I add before taking another sip of my chowder.

"Have you seen Edward since he went to prison?"

I nod. "I saw him a couple weeks ago. His mom came down on Monday for another visit, but I wasn't feeling up to going with her to the prison. When she came back to the house, she began to suspect that I was pregnant and bought me a test. She brought me back to Seattle with her so I could start getting prenatal care."

"So Edward doesn't know yet that he's going to be a father?" Alice asks.

I shake my head. "The next visit is scheduled for a week from Monday, so I have a little bit of time before deciding what to do."

"What is there to decide?"

"I'm just… not sure if I should tell him about the baby."

"If he's your boyfriend, why wouldn't you?" Alice asks, her brow furrowed.

"Well, that's just it — I'm not sure if he's my boyfriend. We never had a chance to discuss what we were to each other."

"Since when would you have sex with a guy who isn't your boyfriend? You were the biggest prude I knew at U-Dub."

I glare at her, then shrug helplessly. "Since he's hot and it's been a long time?"

Alice begins laughing hysterically and nearly chokes on her tea. "Who are you and what have you done with my friend Bella?" she finally asks.

"Alice," I warn. "I know it's… kind of out of character for me. Edward is just… so different from anyone I've ever known. He just lives each day as it comes, doing whatever he wants to do. I think some of that attitude rubbed off on me."

"That's not all that rubbed off on you," she giggles.

"Alice!"

"Ok, ok, I'll behave," she says, trying to control her giggles. "So you had hot sex with this guy, but you never discussed whether or not there was anything more than physical attraction there?"

"Pretty much," I shrug. "I just don't know if he'll be happy to hear about the baby… or if he'll think I ruined his life. And if we think he would be happy about it, is it a good thing or a bad thing for him to know about the pregnancy right now? I mean, he can't participate while he's in prison, so what if that upsets him? Or would it give him something to look forward to when he gets out?"

"How long is he in for?"

"His sentence was 25 years, but—"

"Twenty-five _years_?"

"He was convicted of second-degree murder," I remind her. "But his lawyer is working on getting him a new trial. He got some key evidence last Friday."

"What are the grounds for an appeal?" she asks curiously.

"One of the key prosecution witnesses lied on the stand. They can prove that now."

"Lied about what? Sorry, I didn't pay enough attention to the case to know all the facts," she adds sheepishly.

"That's ok," I smile. "Um, Edward's fingerprints were found in the victim's house because he'd been involved with her daughter. But the daughter lied on the stand and said she'd never met him before. Edward's lawyer was able to get cell phone records to prove that she'd called him."

"So you think it'll be over soon?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I just can't imagine another jury convicting him on so little evidence once she's forced to tell the truth — that he had a legitimate reason for being in the house. The police really don't have much else — obviously, since he didn't do it."

"And he had no alibi?"

"No, he was home sleeping off a Saturday night out, he said."

Alice wrinkles her nose. "You have _what_ in common with this guy, exactly? Ok, he's hot, but is he really someone you want to spend your life with?"

"We're very different people," I allow. "I don't… I don't think it matters what I want, anyway. Edward was attracted to me physically, but I'm not really sure it meant any more to him than a way to pass the time. I don't expect that he'll want any kind of future with me. He'd get bored with me in no time."

"His loss," Alice growls. I give her a small smile in response.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, nodding at my nearly empty bowl.

"Surprisingly good. I usually can't keep much down before mid-afternoon."

"Have you seen the doctor yet? I know her office is nearby, right?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I saw her this morning. So far she says everything looks fine, but I know I'll be a nervous wreck waiting for the test results."

"So you want the baby," Alice says softly.

I nod. "I do. No matter what happens with Edward, this baby is my reason for _being_. I know that I need to get better, for his or her sake."

Alice reaches across the table to pat my hand. "Then I'm happy for you. And I hope things work out with Edward, if that's what you want. I can't even imagine what it must be like for you with him being in prison."

"It's definitely not an ideal situation." I want to laugh at my own understatement.

"So you're really back in Seattle?"

"I'm back," I smile. "I want to find a house soon, so I can get out of Carlisle and Esme's hair."

"You're staying with his parents?"

"Yep. Awkward, I know." I roll my eyes.

"You can come stay with Jasper and me, you know. If you don't mind a rambunctious almost-two-year-old. Hey, dealing with Josh might be good practice," she adds with a wink.

"I'll think about it," I smile. "So far it's been fine. The Cullens are very nice."

"Do you plan to go back to work?"

"Yeah, that's on my list — find a therapist and find a job."

"You could go back to the hospital."

"I can't, Alice. They replaced me," I remind her.

"Yeah, but their business is doing so well that Jasper told me last week they were planning on hiring someone new. I'll tell him tonight that you're back and ask him to give you a call."

"Really?" I ask skeptically. "You're not just saying that?"

"Really," she smiles. Alice insists on paying for the check and then we stand up from the table.

"Um, I hate to ask, but could you give me a ride to Edward's parents' house? It's just on Mercer Island. Esme accompanied me to my appointment this morning and dropped me off here, but she had to go to work."

"Of course," Alice smiles, hugging me briefly. "I'm so glad to have my best friend back."

* * *

**A/N: **Bella really needs to work on how to tell people. ;)

What do you think of Bella's dilemma? Tell Edward or not? Is Alice right?

Coming on Thursday: Bella's next visit to the prison!


	20. November 12

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

The vast majority of you think Bella should tell Edward about her pregnancy ASAP. Let's see what she decides. :)

* * *

_Monday, November 12, 2012_

Early Monday afternoon, I sit staring out the window as Esme drives south on I-5 toward Olympia. It's been a busy week for me, filled with highs… and one extreme low.

The day after I had lunch with Alice, Jasper called me to discuss the possibility of my return to the veterinary hospital. Business has increased so much in the last two and a half years that they felt wait times for an appointment were unacceptable, and so they'd been looking into the possibility of adding a fourth vet.

Last Monday morning, I got a phone call from Dr. Senna letting me know that all of my test results were normal. Even though she hadn't anticipated any problems, getting that confirmation was a huge weight off my mind. That afternoon, I called the therapist recommended by Dr. Cullen. After speaking with her briefly, I scheduled an appointment with her for later this week. I won't lie and say I'm not terrified, but I know I need to do this. And, I promised Edward.

On Tuesday, I met with the entire staff at the veterinary hospital and readily accepted their forthcoming job offer; I start work tomorrow. Jasper was a doll to agree to detour to Mercer Island to pick me up, for now at least, on his commute from Newcastle north to the hospital in Redmond.

On Wednesday, I met with a real estate agent and visited several homes in the Bellevue area. My favorite was a four-bedroom home on the end of a cul-de-sac. Not only is it within walking distance of the Crossroads Shopping Center, but it's also very close to a bus line that can take me to work. It's a bit more than I was looking to spend, but as the home is currently in foreclosure, the asking price was below market. I put in an offer on Thursday which was accepted the next day.

As I began looking into financing on Friday, Esme called me from her office, near-hysterical after speaking with Edward's lawyer. He had submitted the papers asking for a new trial in light of the new evidence — Angela's new statement and the cell phone records. After reviewing the evidence, the judge denied the motion. It was a huge blow for all of us, though Mr. Marks assured us that he and his law partner will take the case all the way to the Washington State Supreme Court if necessary.

I'm scared to death of what I'm going to find at the prison today. Edward's lawyer visited him in person on Saturday, so he's already aware of the bad news. He was fine when I saw him four weeks ago, and Esme said he was fine two weeks ago, but I just have a bad feeling about today.

As if that isn't enough, I'm still not sure if I should tell Edward about the baby or not. Esme is going to see him first for a quick visit, and she has promised not to say anything. Alice thinks I should tell him, but I'm so afraid that he'll either hate the idea of being a father, or it'll make him feel worse because he isn't able to be a part of the pregnancy, especially in light of losing the motion for a new trial.

Once Esme has parked the car, we walk inside and give our names at the desk, showing our IDs.

"Come back in about 15 minutes, all right?" she says. I nod, taking a seat on one of the hard plastic chairs. I fidget nervously, staring up at the clock every 30 seconds as I wait for the 15 minutes to pass. When they do, I'm searched and led through the long sterile hallways.

The guard who's escorting me opens the door to the visit room and I step inside, quickly spotting Edward and his mother seated at a small table near the far corner. She looks up at the sound of our entrance then says something to Edward, giving him a long embrace as he sits slouched at the table.

When she pulls away, I notice Esme wipe a tear from her cheek. I get even more nervous as she makes her way to the door. When she reaches me, she shakes her head minutely.

"He's not doing well, Bella," she whispers.

I nod, swallowing thickly. Slowly, I cross the room, watching Edward still sitting at the table, staring down at his lap. He isn't even looking for me.

"Edward?" I whisper. He lifts his head and his expression is heartbreaking. He looks as defeated as I felt after the accident. "Oh, Edward," I cry, bending down so that I can wrap my arms around him.

After a few moments of hesitation, Edward hugs me back. He twists in his chair and tugs at me until I fall sideways across his lap. Squeezing me tightly, he buries his face in my neck. I can't help the flood of tears as I cling to him.

"Ma'am," a deep voice says. I look up as the guard places his hand on my shoulder. "The rules only allow a brief hug and holding hands."

"I'm sorry," I reply sheepishly, wiping at my tears. Edward relaxes his hold on me and I reluctantly move to the chair beside him, grabbing both of his hands in mine. The guard nods and moves back to his post along the wall.

I turn back to focus on Edward, squeezing his hands. "You can't give up, Edward," I say softly, staring into his eyes, pleading with him to listen to me.

"The judge denied the motion, Bella. Do you know why?" he asks.

I shake my head. Esme didn't tell me a reason.

"Because he said we should've requested the cell phone records before the trial. It's too late for new evidence."

"But Angela didn't tell the truth until after you were convicted! You couldn't have changed _that_."

He shrugs. "Do you see now what law enforcement thinks of me?" he asks bitterly.

"They don't know you like I do," I insist.

"I should hope not," he replies with a smirk. There — there's my Edward. I smile in return.

"It could take a lot longer to get out of prison than I ever dreamed," he says quietly, his smile quickly fading.

"But you can't give up hope!" He rolls his eyes in response.

Suddenly, my internal debate about telling Edward of my pregnancy is a moot point. Of course, I have to tell him — I need to give him something to focus on, something he can look forward to when he gets out.

"Edward," I whisper. "I need… I need to tell you something." I take a deep breath.

"No," he replies abruptly. "There's something I need to say first."

I'm shocked at the intensity in his voice. "Um, ok?"

Edward sighs, removing his right hand from mine and running it through his hair roughly. He closes his eyes briefly them opens them, staring into mine.

"I don't want you to visit me anymore."

My heart skips a beat. "Wh—what?"

"I could be in prison for 25 years, Bella. I can't…" He shakes his head. "I'm no good for you. I don't want you to visit me."

"You… don't… want me?"

He takes hold of my left hand again, then brings both of my hands to his lips, kissing them lightly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, staring at our joined hands. "It's for the best."

"Best for _who_?!" I cry.

"For _you_, baby," he replies, glancing up at me. "I'm… I'm a lost cause. You can't afford to waste another minute of your life. Get therapy, get yourself better and start living again… but don't wait for me. Don't hold out hope that I'm going to get out of here anytime soon."

"But what if I want—"

"No!" he shouts. "You don't know what you really want. I need you to go live your life without worrying about me."

"I can't just stop worrying — stop caring about you." I shake my head, willing the tears away. I don't want to break down in front of him.

"You will," he whispers, "In time. I was just a momentary distraction to you — two weeks out of your life. Soon, it'll be as if I never existed."

My breath hitches. Oh no, Edward, that's where you're wrong — I will have a reminder of you for the rest of my life.

"Edward," I begin pleadingly. "Don't do this." I have to tell him about my pregnancy. "I—"

"Stop," he says forcefully. "You can't change my mind. It's best if you just go now." I stare at him, looking for any sign that he doesn't mean what he's saying. I don't find any.

"Ok," I whisper, standing up. I feel dizzy and nearly fall forward. Still holding my hands, Edward stands alongside me.

"Goodbye, Bella," he says quietly.

I stare into his eyes, pleading with him one last time. All of a sudden Edward drops my hands, quickly taking my face in his hands as he places a tender kiss on my lips. When he pulls back after a couple seconds, I throw my arms around him, holding him tightly, but he just stands there motionless, his hands at his sides.

The moment I feel his lips touch my hair, a wave of nausea hits me. I abruptly pull back, my hand over my mouth. I run toward the door, praying that I won't be sick in front of everyone else in the visit room. The guard at the door notices my predicament and opens the door without my asking. I follow him into the hallway as he hurries along. We round the corner and he points to a door marked "WOMEN." Rushing inside, I barely make it to the toilet before throwing up.

When I think I'm finished, I flush the toilet and walk slowly to the sink. I wash my hands then do my best to rinse out my mouth. I stand there staring at my reflection in the mirror, breathing heavily. I put on mascara this morning, wanting to look my best for Edward, and now it's smudged from my tears. I try to fix it as best I can. I don't want to leave the bathroom, but I need to. I really want a breath mint, but my purse is locked away.

Finally, I step out into the hallway to find a different guard standing outside the door waiting for me.

"Officer Stephens had to get back into the visit room," the man explains. "Do you want to go back in, or should I take you to the front desk?"

"To the front desk, please," I reply hoarsely.

He nods, leading me through the hallways. I retrieve my belongings from the locker and quickly dig around in my purse for a breath mint before looking for Esme.

"Bella," she calls as soon as I appear. "That was quick. I thought we had until 3:30?"

"He wanted me to leave," I reply robotically. "And not come back."

Esme gasps. "He what?!"

I nod. "He said he doesn't want me to visit. I should go on with my life."

"Did you tell him about…?"

I shake my head. "I didn't get the chance," I whisper.

"Oh Bella," Esme coos, hugging me tightly. "He's upset. He didn't mean anything he said today, I promise you that."

I nod, but I don't believe her. She didn't see Edward's face as he was asking me to leave.

I buckle up once we reach Esme's SUV, staring out the window as I drive away from the prison for the very last time. We cross through Aberdeen, then Esme makes the turn to my — now former — home.

Inside, she helps me to pack up the last of my things and carry them out to the car. It takes both of us to lift my trunk, but I can't leave it behind.

"I think… I think I should donate these," I say quietly, pulling Jacob's clothing out of the closet.

Esme pats my arm, giving me a small smile. "I think that's a great idea." We pack up the drawer full of Jacob's clothing as well, and Esme promises to take them to her church donation box next weekend.

* * *

I collapse onto my — Edward's — bed once we're back in Seattle. Esme wisely gives me space, just quietly letting me know before I head upstairs that she'll have dinner on the table at 6:30. I'm nearly asleep where I hear my iPhone ringing.

"Hello?" I answer it groggily.

"_Bells, are you all right?_" my dad asks. "_You don't sound good._"

Charlie calls to check on me once or twice a week. I finally told him last Thursday that I'd moved back to Seattle, though he doesn't know I'm living with the Cullens. He was thrilled, until he learned that I was still planning to visit Edward in prison. He was ecstatic though to learn that I'm getting my old job back and planning to see a therapist.

No, I didn't have the guts to tell him about my pregnancy.

"It's been a tough day," I tell him honestly.

"_Did you see Edward?_"

"Yeah, I did. He's not dealing well with the news that the judge denied his motion for a new trial last Friday." For some reason, I don't want to tell him what Edward and I talked about, though I expect that he'd be happy with the news.

"_I'm sorry, Bells,_" he says softly.

"Do you… do you think you could try to look into Edward's case, Dad? It seems like his only hope of getting out of prison may be finding the real killer."

"_I don't have any jurisdiction in Seattle, Bella._"

"I know, but… don't you know anyone on the force? The victim lived in Bellevue, actually, not Seattle proper. Could you ask around, take a look at the evidence? Please, Dad," I beg. Maybe Edward doesn't want me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to give up on him.

"_I'll see what I can do,_" he replies before clearing his throat. "_Listen, um, I was just wondering what you planned to do for Thanksgiving next week. I've been invited to the Clearwaters' for dinner, but I thought if you wanted to come to Forks…_"

"Um, actually I already had an invite here in Seattle," I reply, thinking of Esme's comment last week that I was welcome to have turkey with Carlisle and her if I had no other plans.

"_Oh, with Alice and Jasper?_"

"Actually, no, they're going to Texas to see Jasper's family." Josh's second birthday is the Saturday after the holiday, so his grandparents really wanted them to come down. I felt a little bad for being pleased by the news — Alice being in Texas means I won't be dragged Black Friday shopping. "Um, Edward's parents invited me."

"_Edward's parents?_" he repeats, sounding shocked.

"Yeah." An idea begins to form in my head. I'm sure the Cullens' wouldn't mind Charlie coming to Thanksgiving dinner. I know that I need to tell my dad about my pregnancy — soon — so maybe next week will be a good time for that. Plus, the Cullens would make a perfect buffer in case he wants to kill me. "Hey, Dad, would you like to have Thanksgiving dinner here? I'll double check with Esme, but I'm sure she won't mind. She loves to entertain."

"Well, if you're sure it's ok, then… yeah, sure," he replies.

"Great! I miss you, Dad," I tell him softly. "I'll, um, e-mail you directions, all right?"

"_Sounds good. I'll call you later this week._"

I hang up and flop back onto the bed. I have ten days to figure out how the hell I'm going to tell my father that I'll be a single mother in seven more months.

* * *

**A/N: **Erm, so... Charlie to the rescue?

Once again, please don't kill the writer. Some of you suspected something like this a few chapters back, figuring Edward may not have requested Bella to be added to his approved visitor list in the first place.

A Guest reviewer wanted to know how much longer until Edward gets out of prison. Sorry, I can't spoil that! But I will say that I tried to move through these chapters as quickly as possible without making the story feel rushed. I could've done another two chapters on the last week that Bella recapped in a few paragraphs at the beginning of this chapter. :)

Coming on Monday: Bella tells Charlie! Yes, really, I promise!


	21. November 22

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Thanks to all who understood why the last chapter had to happen! I just don't think it would be realistic for everything with Edward's case to fall into place that easily. And it's very much in character for him to push Bella away for her own good, as cliché as that may be!

* * *

_Thursday, November 22, 2012_

"Do you need any help, Esme?" I ask, stepping into the kitchen. I feel horrible that she has had to do all of the cooking for Thanksgiving dinner. I wanted to help but one sniff of the turkey cooking this morning caused me to lose my breakfast.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I am," I nod. "The smell isn't getting to me anymore."

"Ok, then I could really use some help baking the pie while I work on the sweet potato casserole."

Following the family recipe, I mix up the pumpkin pie then pop it into the double oven. Next, Esme hands me the cans of green beans to make green bean casserole while she tackles the mashed potatoes.

"What time is your dad supposed to be here, Bella?"

"I'm not sure," I shrug. "I told him we were targeting 4 o'clock for the turkey." Esme was kind enough to push dinner back a little later than their norm, in the hopes that any lingering queasiness would be gone and I'd be able to enjoy the food.

"You haven't told him about your pregnancy yet, have you?" she asks carefully.

"I haven't," I admit. "I was thinking of telling him tonight after dinner. Maybe the tryptophan in the turkey will keep him calmer," I joke. "And you know, he might not kill me if there are witnesses."

Esme chuckles. "You don't think he might be a little excited over his first grandchild?"

I think back to three years ago, telling Charlie that I was pregnant. He was ecstatic, already planning on teaching the baby how to fish — boy or girl. I was so caught up in my own loss that I didn't really see at the time that my parents — and Billy Black — had lost a grandchild, too.

"Once he gets over the shock, maybe," I reply with a small smile.

Just after I've placed the green bean casserole in the oven and checked on the pumpkin pie, the doorbell rings. Esme and I look at each other and she gives me an encouraging smile.

I wipe my hands then make my way to the large foyer, opening the door. "Hi, Dad." I smile when I see him — he looks like he's slightly dressed up for the occasion. "Come on in."

Charlie steps inside and I take his coat, hanging it up in the hall closet. I lead him first to the kitchen.

"Wow, everything smells great," he says, clearing his throat.

"Dad, I'd like you to meet Esme Cullen. She owns her own interior design firm and decorated the home herself. Esme, this is my dad, Chief Charles Swan from the Forks police department."

"It's nice to meet you, Chief Swan," Esme replies gracefully, shaking my father's hand. "I'm glad that you could make it."

"I'll be back in a minute, Esme. Let me just show my dad to the football game."

I notice my dad looking around at the home as I lead him to the family room. After introducing him to Carlisle, I leave the two men to watch football.

"Oh, Bella, you could've stayed with your father. I've got it," Esme says when I return to the kitchen.

"It's fine," I tell her. "I know my dad — he'll be too caught up in the football game to talk to me."

I stir the gravy cooking on the stove, keeping an eye on the oven, while Esme sets the table. The turkey doesn't quite cooperate, not reaching the proper temperature until about 20 minutes after our planned dinner time. Esme calls Carlisle to remove the 15-lb bird from the oven. We let it sit for a few minutes before he carves it, placing slices onto a platter. I remove the stuffing from the turkey, spooning it into a dish, and then Esme and I carry the dishes of food into the formal dining room.

Carlisle says a brief prayer, asking for his son's safety and release, and then we all begin to eat, passing the various dishes around the table.

"So Bella tells me your other son is a pro football player?" my dad asks.

"Yes," Esme replies, "Emmett is a tight end for the Green Bay Packers."

"They're off to a pretty good start, aren't they?"

"Seven and three," Carlisle announces proudly. "Emmett is a third year player and he's off to the best start of his career."

"Where'd he go to college?"

"University of Miami," Carlisle replies. It doesn't mean much to me, but my dad seems to be impressed, anyway.

"Did Edward play football as well?" Dad asks.

"He wasn't really into sports in high school," Esme replies quietly.

"It was too much work for him," Carlisle grumbles. "Edward was always more into partying than working hard."

Dad raises an eyebrow and I find myself wishing that Carlisle wasn't so hard on Edward. I really don't want my father thinking less of him than he already does.

After we finish eating, Esme and I clear the table while the men return to the family room to watch more football. We're all too stuffed to enjoy the pie right now.

"How are you doing?" I ask her, alone in the kitchen. "I mean, I know it must be tough to celebrate such a family-oriented holiday without your family."

She smiles at me. "You're family now, Bella. Though I won't lie — I do wish I could have my two sons here. But with Emmett's next game in New York on Sunday, there was just no way he could make it to the West Coast. His fiancée is from upstate New York, so he's spending the holiday with her family."

"And Edward?" I ask quietly. I watch as Esme wipes a tear from her eye.

"Edward was in a different prison for those three years after the robbery. They always fed the inmates a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. I hope that Stafford Creek does the same."

I hope so, too. Pregnancy hormones have me overly emotional and I try hard not to cry, thinking of Edward all alone in a small prison cell.

Once the dishwasher is loaded and turned on, Esme and I join the men in the family room. My dad clears his throat when I sit down. "So, Bells, I did find someone I know on the police force up here, Jared Brady. We went to the police academy together. I was planning to spend the night in the area and go down to the station to see him tomorrow since I'm off work again."

"To talk about Edward's case?" I ask excitedly.

"Yeah," he nods. "He's head of Narcotics, but he agreed to let me look over Edward's case file."

"That's great, Dad," I smile.

"Is there anything in particular I should be looking for?"

I glance over to Esme for help. She knows far more about the particulars of Edward's case than I do.

"We really appreciate your help, Chief Swan," Esme replies graciously. "The police always told us that Edward was their only suspect. His were the only fingerprints found in the victim's house that didn't belong to members of the family. I suppose the thing I'd most like to know is whether there were any other leads that just weren't followed up — anything that might lead to another suspect."

My dad nods, stroking his moustache. "Bella said that the witness who claimed she didn't know Edward at the trial has since changed her story and admitted that she'd invited him into the house?"

"Yes, that's right," Esme replies. "She gave a new statement five or six weeks after his conviction, but the police didn't believe her. They thought Edward had somehow threatened her into changing her story. But we now have the cell phone records from both of their phones to prove that she called him."

"That's the evidence you put forth in the motion for a new trial?"

"Yes," Esme nods.

"Hmmm. Had the evidence been found before his trial, I would think that it would almost certainly lead to reasonable doubt in the eyes of the jury. Unfortunately, once the defendant has been tried and convicted, it's not so much that the State has to prove his guilt, but that he has to prove his innocence."

"Is that even possible, short of finding the real killer?" I ask anxiously.

"It'll be pretty tough," he admits, and my heart sinks. "I'll dig around in the file, see if anything stands out."

"Thanks, Dad," I tell him gratefully. "So you believe that Edward is innocent?"

"If you've told me everything, I believe that the evidence is pretty skimpy, all circumstantial. And I believe in you, Bells. I trust that I taught you to be a good judge of character."

I smile, so happy to hear Charlie say that. I need him to believe that Edward is a good person before I tell him about the baby.

"So where are you living, Bells? Did you buy a house yet?"

"I did buy a place a couple weeks ago, but I don't close for another two or three weeks. Um, I'm staying here for now."

"Here?" he asks, shocked.

"Um, yes. Esme was kind enough to invite me to stay."

"Where's the house you bought? Near your old neighborhood? I know you really loved it there."

"Um, no, it's on the east side of Bellevue, a little bit northeast of here. Close to my job, so I can take the bus."

"It seems like a really nice place from the photos online," Esme adds. "Built in the mid 1990s and recently renovated."

"It's really beautiful, end of a cul-de-sac with a huge backyard," I explain. "The house was in foreclosure so I was able to get a pretty good deal. It's about 2,500 square feet, with four bedrooms."

"Four bedrooms?" Charlie asks. "Why do you need four bedrooms?"

I can feel my heart beating madly. This is it — this is the perfect chance to tell him. I look over at Esme and she gives me an encouraging smile. "Um, well, I figured I needed two guest rooms, in case both you and Mom visit at the same time. And the fourth bedroom will be the nursery."

Charlie stares at me in silence for a long moment. "Nursery?" he repeats. "Are you planning to have a baby?"

"I'll be having one in about seven months," I whisper.

"What?! You're pregnant?" Charlie asks in disbelief.

I nod, squaring my shoulders. "Yes, I'm pregnant."

"So Edward is the father?" he deduces.

I nod, watching my dad's face turn red.

"So help me, if he forced you to—"

"Dad!" I yell. "Edward didn't force me to do anything."

"He'd better not have, or I'd need to go down to the prison and castrate him," he growls.

"I swear to you, Dad — nothing happened that I didn't want to happen."

"My God, Bells, you're 30 years old — didn't you ever learn about safe sex?"

"Of course I did!" I roll my eyes. "And we did use condoms, but… things happen sometimes." There is _no_ way that I am telling Charlie about the one time we didn't use a condom. "I believe this happened for a reason. Think about it, Dad, your first grandchild. Remember how excited you were last—last time?"

"How long have you known about this?" he asks angrily.

"Um, since the end of last month, I guess."

"You've known for over three weeks and didn't tell me?"

"I was waiting for the right time," I protest. "To be able to tell you in person."

"So you want this."

"I do," I nod. "I want this baby more than anything. It's my reason for living. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

My dad sighs, turning to Carlisle and Esme with a guilty expression. "I'm sorry," he says calmly, "I didn't mean to insult your son. It's just…"

"I understand," Carlisle says, holding his hand up. "You're Bella's father and you worry about her."

"Chief Swan," Esme begins, "I know my son. He is no angel, but I know that he would never hurt a woman. It's obvious that he cares about Bella very much."

I close my eyes. I know Esme still believes that, but I'm just not sure what to believe anymore. Esme won't tell Edward about the baby without my permission, so has been trying to convince me to come with her to visit Edward again next Monday and tell him myself. I'm just not sure I can take it if he orders me to leave again, though.

"What does Edward think about your pregnancy?" Dad asks curiously.

I open my eyes, wondering what I can say that won't set him on the warpath again. "He doesn't know," I reply quietly. "I didn't get a chance to tell him last week."

"Edward didn't deal well with learning his motion for a new trial was denied," Esme explains. "He's trying to do the… noble thing, I guess."

"Noble thing?" Charlie asks.

Esme hesitates before speaking. "He told Bella to move on and not visit him anymore."

"Maybe you should listen to that, Bells."

"I won't visit him if he doesn't want that, but I'm not giving up on Edward. He's innocent — he doesn't belong in prison."

"How long are you prepared to wait?" Dad asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't… I can't really answer that. Dad, I care about Edward. He came into my life when I really needed a push to try and get better, to get over my PTSD."

"How many times did I ask you to get help, Bells?"

"I know, Dad. I know you did," I placate him. "But… it took talking to Edward, understanding what he has gone through in his life, for me to know what I had to do. We connected, in a way that I don't think I've ever connected with anyone else."

"Even if he's innocent of this crime, he has a record," my dad says. "Is this really the father you want for your child?"

"I know he's made mistakes!" I yell. "But once Edward got out of prison, he tried to turn his life around. He'd learned from his mistakes. He had a steady job that he loved."

"A job doing what?"

"He was a cook at an Italian restaurant," I explain. "He's so talented. I used to tell him that he should go to culinary school when he gets out of prison."

"Oh, that would be a great idea," Esme interjects. "Edward is truly talented in the kitchen."

"Please don't think of him as a criminal because of one mistake in his past," I plead. "There's so much more to him that that. And I believe that he'll be a great father once he's out of prison… if he wants to be."

Esme crosses the room, sitting on the arm of the chair so that she can hug me. "I know he'll want to be." I hope that she's right. I swipe at a tear, wishing for the end of the hormonal swings.

My dad sighs. "Obviously I'm not going to stop you from having this baby. I just want you to be sure this is what you want."

"It is," I state definitively. "I love my child already, no matter what happens. I'm thankful that… that I got a second chance to be a mother, even if the circumstances aren't ideal."

Dad nods. "I just want what's best for you."

"I know," I whisper.

Esme pats me on the shoulder, standing up. "Is anyone up for dessert now?" I smile at her attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

At the three nods, she disappears into the kitchen, returning with plates of pumpkin pie for my dad and me. She returns a minute later with two more. My dad loves pumpkin pie and finishes his piece in no time.

"Would you like another piece, Chief Swan?" Esme asks. When my dad grins sheepishly, she jumps up to bring him another one.

After devouring his second slice of pie, Charlie stands up and stretches. "Thank you for your hospitality, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen. I should probably find myself a hotel room for the night. I didn't realize Bella wasn't living in her own place."

"You could stay here, Chief Swan," Esme says. "We have two guest rooms."

"Oh, no, I—"

"Please. I insist," she says with a smile. "Consider it a thank you in advance for looking into Edward's case."

"All right then," Charlie nods, "Let me go get my bag out of the car."

* * *

**A/N: **So, Charlie knows he's gonna be a grandpa and he's looking into Edward's case. I promise not _too_ much longer before there's a break in the case.

Coming on Thursday: A cameo appearance from Edward. :)


	22. November 26

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Thanks for the great response to the last chapter! Most felt Charlie's reaction was quite realistic.

* * *

_Monday, November 26, 2012_

"Bella, are you sure you don't want to come with me to the prison today?" Esme asks as she stands at the stove scrambling some eggs.

"I'm sure," I nod, taking a small sip of my orange juice — the only thing I seem to be able to keep down in the mornings.

"Bella," she says gently, "I'm one hundred percent sure Edward didn't mean anything he said last time. He'll be happy to see you."

I sigh. I know _she_ believes that, but I don't. My heart can't take it if he sends me away again.

"Do you want me to tell him about the baby? I'm sure he'll want to see you then."

"No!" I almost shout. "I don't… I don't want him to ask me to come back just out of guilt or something. And if he's upset, well… it's not fair to you to have to deal with his wrath."

Esme gives me a sympathetic smile. "Do you have a message for him or anything?"

"Tell him not to give up hope," I whisper. "We'll find some way to get him free."

My dad had looked over Edward's case files last Friday, but he didn't see anything in there that indicated any other possible suspect. He didn't believe the evidence was really sufficient to have charged Edward, but presumed the police had wanted to arrest someone so that they could set the community's mind at ease. That information didn't set _my_ mind at ease any.

I say goodbye to Esme when I hear Jasper pull into the driveway to take me to work. I'm supposed to close on my new house in just a couple of weeks. I'm looking forward to living in my own place where I can take the bus to work. I hate putting Jasper out, though he swears he doesn't mind the extra detour to Mercer Island.

After a busy morning at the veterinary hospital, I find myself with about 90 minutes between appointments. As I sit enjoying a late lunch at a cafe down the street, I check my phone and see that it's after 1pm. With the three-hour time difference to Jacksonville, my mother should be home from her teaching job by now. I decide to call her and wish her a happy birthday — and tell her about my pregnancy. While we exchange e-mails a couple of times a week, I've been stalling when it comes to telling her about the baby. But now that Charlie knows, I don't want to take any chances of Mom finding out from someone other than me.

And I need something to distract me from worrying about Esme's visit at the prison this afternoon.

"_Hello._" She sounds rushed, as usual. My mother leads a much fuller life than I do, I think to myself.

"Hi, Mom. Happy Birthday!"

"_Oh, thank you, baby."_

"Got any big plans for your birthday?"

_"Oh yes! Phil got me a facial and massage package at the spa for my birthday. Isn't he wonderful? And he's taking me out to dinner tonight at my favorite Japanese restaurant._"

"That sounds great! I'm sorry I couldn't be there to celebrate with you."

"_Maybe next year you'll feel up to the flight?_"

"Uh, yeah, maybe," I answer vaguely. It's seven to eight hours _minimum_ to fly from SeaTac to Jacksonville. I doubt I'll be doing that with an infant. I clear my throat. "Mom… um, I have something to tell you."

"_You already e-mailed me about your new place, remember?_" she answers, sounding distracted.

"That—that's not what I wanted to tell you. I, um, I have some news."

"_Well, just spit it out, Bella,_" she chuckles.

Taking a deep breath, I begin, "You're going to be a grandmother."

Silence. For several seconds, I don't even hear my mother breathing.

"_I must've heard you wrong. I thought you said I'm going to be a grandmother._"

"That's what I said," I confirm quietly. "I'm due in June."

"_I didn't even know you were seeing anyone,_" Mom cries. "_Why didn't you tell me about him? What's his name? Is he cute? What does he do for a living?_"

I can't help chuckling at my mother's barrage of questions. "He's very cute, Mom. His name is Edward." I wisely ignore her first question. "Um, he's a cook at an Italian restaurant," I lie.

"_Edward? That's kind of an old-fashioned name, isn't it? Please tell me you're not seeing someone your dad's age, for God's sake._"

"No, no, Edward is actually a few years younger than me." I'm afraid to tell her exactly how many years, though she'd be a hypocrite if she gives me shit about it. Phil is actually eight years younger than Mom — a larger gap than between Edward and me.

"_How long have you been seeing him?_" Mom asks.

"Since my birthday." I rationalize that I'm not lying to her, just… being deliberately misleading.

"_Does he treat you well? What does your dad think of him?_"

"Dad hasn't exactly met him yet. But he's great, Mom, really. He's so full of life." _Or he was._ "I know you'd like him."

"_When's the wedding? I need to know how much time I have to find something to wear,_" she chuckles.

"Oh, we're not engaged." I can't even imagine Edward tied down to one woman like that.

"_Well, why don't you ask _him_ if he hasn't proposed yet?_"

"It's still early, Mom. We'll just wait and see, ok? There are enough changes in my life right now as it is."

"_Oh, honey, I'd love to hear more about you and Edward, but my spa appointment is in about 15 minutes. I need to get going so I'm not late — you know I can't drive and talk on the phone at the same time._"

"Sure, Mom," I sigh. "I'll talk to you soon. Love you."

Once I hang up, I close my eyes and breathe in and out deeply. My mother and I were close, once upon a time. It was just the two of us for most of my life when I was growing up, until she met Phil when I was 15. But we've grown apart in the last 15 years.

I know my mom loves me. I mean, she took a four-week leave of absence from her job to stay with me after the accident. But she's living in the opposite corner of the country, and we don't get to see each other nearly enough. With her teacher's salary, and Phil's as a high school baseball coach, they don't have the money to fly to Seattle often.

If I'm being truthful, the gulf that has widened between us in the last three years is entirely my fault. Mom saw me at my worst in those four weeks. She stopped me from taking a bottle of pills. But she never truly understood my pain. No one did — until Edward. And I can't help resenting her for that.

* * *

"Bella?" I hear Esme's voice calling me as I sit in the sun porch, playing with Leo. I just got home from work about 20 minutes ago.

"On the sun porch!" I reply.

Moments later, Esme opens the French doors, stepping into the room and closing the doors behind her so my cat can't escape. She sits on the sofa, stretching her neck. I imagine it's stiff from spending four hours in the car today.

"How is he?" I ask quietly.

"A little better, but… he still seems so defeated. It's like he's lost hope that he's going to get out of prison. I told him that Mr. Marks isn't going to give up on him, but…" she trails off. "I've just never known Edward to be like this."

"He asked about you," she continues. "I told him that you were back in Seattle and had gone back to work, even had two appointments with a therapist. He seemed pleased to hear that; it even got a little bit of a smile. I maintain that he cares deeply for you, Bella."

"But not enough to want me with him."

"But that's exactly why he _does_ care about you," she says softly. "He thinks he's doing what is best for you by setting you free, even if it's killing him."

I scoff. "I doubt it's killing him."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. He looks so tired, with dark circles under his eyes. I don't think he's sleeping well. If you won't come with me next time, please think about letting me tell him. He needs to focus on something positive and stop dwelling on the negative."

"You're so sure that he'll be happy about the baby." I shake my head. "I doubt he's even _considered_ being a father before."

"Well, I doubt that, too. You know as well as I do that Edward is more of a spur of the moment kind of person," she chuckles.

I smile; yes, I do know that.

"But the thing is, Bella, he spent the first 11 years of his life practically raising himself. He'd never felt loved, not really. After his adoption, I could see the way he'd struggle with being part of a real family. He seemed to soak up our love, yet he'd push us away at the same time. Much later, after he'd been through therapy in prison, he explained to us how he didn't feel worthy of our unconditional love. It broke my heart all over again to hear that.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that deep down, Edward craves love. I know that in the past he has tried to find it with meaningless sex." I cringe, but I know she's right. "I think the pure, innocent love of a parent to a child, and vice versa, is exactly what he needs."

Tears are sliding down my face by the time Esme finishes. I want so badly to believe that she's right about Edward.

"Just think about it, ok?" she asks, standing up. Esme pats my shoulder before walking to the door. "Carlisle is working late, so I think I'm going to be lazy and order delivery for dinner," she says as she turns to face me. "I'm having a craving for Mexican. Sound good?"

I nod, then wrap my arms around Leo and hug him until he squirms for me to let him go. Could I face going to visit Edward and having him reject me again?

* * *

That night once I change into my pajamas, I look around Edward's old bedroom. It's funny, I've been here for a month, but I've never really _looked_ at it. It had always felt like I'd be intruding somehow, snooping. But now I want to try to get to know the man who fathered my child.

I might've expected a teenage boy's bedroom to be dark, gray or black, but it's not. The comforter is a masculine deep red, with stripes of cream, brown and navy blue. It's colorful, like Edward. It fits him, somehow. Matching navy blue drapes hang on either side of the tall windows. I'm sure the several throw pillows on the bed were Esme's doing, however.

The entire wall above the bed is covered in posters. A couple of alternative bands, a couple of flashy-looking cars, a couple of the obligatory women in bikinis, but most of them showcase different tattoos. I idly wonder how old he was when he got his first tattoo. Somehow I don't think Edward would've been the type to wait until he was 18 — surely he had a fake ID at a young age.

I remember my own teenage bedroom had a corkboard filled with ribbons and honors I'd won in school, while trophies from various science fairs or spelling bees sat on top of my dresser. There's nothing like that in Edward's room, not even a diploma, though I know he graduated from high school. No, his corkboard has a few photos of a teenaged Edward and what I imagine are his friends — rough-looking kids with long hair, dressed in torn jeans, cigarettes hanging from their mouths. It makes me sad that this is where he felt like he belonged.

I peer closer at one of the photos. Edward looks so young, though he doesn't look _innocent_. I imagine he hadn't even needed to shave yet. But then I see his beautiful green eyes; they're bloodshot and blank. He looks like he's drunk, or maybe high.

I hesitate only briefly before opening the top drawer to his single nightstand. Inside, I find a crumpled pack of cigarettes, a pack of gum, a bottle of lotion — ugh, I don't even want to think about what that was for — a box of tissues, plus a few odds and ends. Nothing _too_ exciting.

Then I open the bottom drawer. Bingo! The porn stash. I shake my head, wondering why he didn't take the magazines with him when he moved out. But then I notice the date in the corner of the top one. It's from April of this year. I guess Edward _had_ told me that he'd moved back in with his parents after his arrest. I'd absolutely expect to find porn in a teenage boy's bedroom, but Edward is an adult! Do all adult men look at pictures of naked women? I don't remember seeing anything like this when I packed up Jake's and my house in Seattle.

Of course, Edward and my late husband are two very, very different people. Jacob's main concern always seemed to be his career, while Edward's very much seems to be partying and sex. Maybe Alice was right when she wondered what we have in common. We have nothing in common, not really, nothing beyond our shared pain and guilt.

But still, I felt an undeniable connection to Edward. I was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. What happened between us was inevitable from the moment he burst into my house. And no matter what happens now, I'll never regret it.

Wiping a stray tear, I open the dresser, pulling one of Edward's t-shirts from the drawer. I hold it up to my nose and am disappointed that it doesn't smell like him. Of course Esme would've washed it.

Suddenly, I have an idea. I strip off my pajamas, re-folding them and leaving them on top of the dresser. And then I slide the t-shirt over my head; it makes me feel closer to him somehow. Shaking my head at my stupidity, I turn off the light and climb into bed.

* * *

_"Baby," he whispers, tugging at me until I roll onto my back. "I've missed you, baby."_

_"Edward?!"_

_"Were you expecting someone else?" he replies with a smirk. "You're wearing too many clothes," he adds, pulling the shirt over my head. _

_"Edward, what are—"_

_His lips cut me off as his tongue makes its way into my mouth. Oh God, I have missed this. His hands knead my breasts, his fingers pulling on my sensitive nipples. _

_His hands finally leave my breasts, trailing down my stomach to the top of my panties before tugging them down. I moan when one long finger brushes against my most intimate place._

_"Always so wet for me. You have no idea what a turn-on that is," he whispers. His hot, wet mouth envelopes one of my breasts and I can't help crying out. His finger never stops its relentless teasing._

_"Please, Edward…"_

_"Please what?" I can feel his smile against my chest._

_"Please love me," I whisper._

_"Always, Bella. Forever," he replies as he makes us one. His hands and lips touch me everywhere as we make love. I scratch my nails down his back, not even caring if I mark him. He's mine._

_"More, more," I beg as I feel my orgasm approaching. He swivels his hips, hitting exactly the right spot, until I'm coming in endless waves of pleasure._

Slowly, I open my eyes, blinking at the early morning sun. I'm naked in bed — alone — my hand still between my legs.

_Fuck._ It was just a dream. I can't even remember the last time I had an erotic dream. I certainly never had one the entire time I lived in Aberdeen. Gradually, I sit up, trying not to cry at the disappointment of waking up alone.

"I need you, Edward," I whisper to the empty room. "Please hang on."

* * *

**A/N: **Did anyone catch what Bella "thought" in this chapter that she's never said before?

Coming on Monday: Bella gets a phone call. Who do you think it's from?


	23. December 13

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

The two main guesses seem to be that it's either Edward or Charlie calling. Let's see who's right!

Oh, Bella's breakthrough was in thinking of Jacob as her "late" husband for the first time.

* * *

_Thursday, December 13, 2012_

The one thought that never crossed my mind when I planned to just take the bus to and from work was that I'd have to walk to and from the bus stop. No, it's not far, probably not even a quarter of a mile, but in the cold December air with light sleet falling from the sky, well, it seems like a marathon.

I hate weather like this. Hate it with a passion that I can't even describe in words. The couple of times Aberdeen had weather like this on a Friday, I refused to leave the house with Mrs. Cope. I'm sure she sometimes thought I was insane. I actually kind of miss the nosy old lady though. I called her after I left Aberdeen to let her know that I'd moved on, but I haven't spoken to her since.

I'm grateful when I finally reach my house, opening the door with my key and stepping inside. Thanks to my hooded coat, at least my hair isn't wet. I leave my wet shoes in the entryway and head straight for the master bedroom to change out of my work clothes, Leo trailing behind me.

I closed on the house on Monday and moved in the following day. I didn't have much stuff to move — two trips in Esme's SUV and I had everything. I'd sold all of my furniture when I left Seattle so I had to buy everything new. Furniture shopping with not one, but _two_, interior designers is not an experience I ever hope to repeat. My new home looks beautiful though.

As I slip into my jeans, I struggle to button them. And these aren't the newer pair, the best-fitting pair from Walmart — these are the larger designer jeans that I'd kept from before my life went to hell. I didn't keep any of my maternity clothes though, so it looks like I need to go shopping this weekend.

Alice probably still has her clothes from when she was pregnant with Josh, since I know she and Jasper want another baby one day, but there's no way I could fit into anything that fits Alice. I'll call her tomorrow to see if she wants to go shopping with me this weekend. I laugh at my own thoughts — since when has Alice _ever_ turned down a shopping trip?

Turning to the side, I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my closet door. I don't actually look pregnant yet — mostly I just look like I've eaten too many Christmas cookies. But if I touch my stomach, I can feel a hard little ball there. I haven't felt the baby move yet, but I know it won't be much longer.

As I start to become more noticeably pregnant, it bothers me more and more that Edward isn't here and able to be a part of my pregnancy. I heard the baby's heartbeat at my doctor's appointment earlier this month, and I wanted nothing more than for him to be there at my side experiencing the miracle with me.

In order to stay sane, I try not to think about Edward constantly. I miss him so much. It's ridiculous given our short time together, but I do. Both Esme and Carlisle visited him at the prison this week, but I wasn't able to go due to the scheduled closing on my house. She told me that he asked about me, wanted to be sure I was ok, but he hasn't asked for me to come back. While his mental state is better than it was a month ago, he's still not back to his old self.

I've made up my mind that I'm going to tag along on Esme's next visit so that I can tell Edward about the baby. He deserves to know, even if there's nothing he can do about it. I'm not as convinced as Esme is that he'll react favorably, but I know this is something I have to do.

Once I've thrown on a baggy sweatshirt, I head to the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator as I try to figure out what to make for dinner. Before I can decide, I hear my cell phone ringing. I check the caller ID and see that it's my dad.

"Hey, Dad," I answer. "What's up?"

"_Do you think you can meet me at the Bellevue police station in about an hour?_" he asks. From the background noise, it sounds like he's in his car.

"You're on your way up here?"

"_Yeah, I got a call from an Officer Biers, saying he has some information for me._"

"About Edward?" I ask. Oh my God, maybe they found something!

"_Yeah, about Edward, but I don't know any details. Can you call the Cullens and ask them to be there as well?_"

"Of—of course. Officer Biers isn't the guy you know from the police academy, right?"

"_Right. I met him though, when Sergeant Brady got me Edward's file._"

"The main precinct or the substation by my house?" I ask.

"_The main precinct,_" he tells me.

"We'll be there," I promise. Please, please let this be good news!

After I've hung up, I call Esme to let her know what my dad said. I tell her that I can just take the bus to the police station, but she insists on driving me. She and Carlisle haven't eaten yet either, so they offer to take me out for a quick bite after picking me up.

Fifteen minutes later, we're being seated at a Chinese restaurant close to the police station.

"Your dad didn't give you _any_ details, Bella?" Carlisle asks.

"None," I reply, shaking my head. "Just that he got a call from Officer Biers."

"Officer Biers? That name sounds familiar," Esme says. "Oh, I remember now, he's the officer who took Angela's new statement. After she came in, I spoke with the homicide detective who'd worked Edward's case, and he mentioned the other officer's name."

We catch up on how I'm coming along with getting settled in my new house, then leave the restaurant as soon as we've finished our meals so that we can meet my dad at the police station.

When we step inside, he's waiting for us in the lobby, standing with a young officer with sandy brown hair.

"Bells," my dad calls, hugging me briefly. "This is Officer Riley Biers. He works property crimes."

"But I'm on desk duty until I recover from an injury I suffered last summer," he says with a smile, shaking our hands. "Follow me," he says, walking with a slight limp as he leads us down the hallway to a small conference room.

"You were the one who took Angela Weber's statement, right?" Esme asks as we sit down.

"That's right," he replies with a nod. "I was working the front desk the afternoon she came in. The detective who'd worked on your son's case wasn't available, so I handled it myself."

"And you didn't believe her new story," Esme replies with a touch of anger.

"Well," he begins, leaning back in his chair and rubbing the back of his neck. "I actually did believe her, but when Detective Caius watched the recording, he thought she was lying."

"And we know now that she wasn't," Esme says.

"Right," he smiles sheepishly. "I've heard about the cell phone records that prove the two of them knew each other."

"So what are we doing here?" Carlisle asks. Good, we're all anxious to know why we're here.

"Well, I met Chief Swan when Sergeant Brady came by the filing room to show him the evidence in your son's case. He told me how he was looking into the case for his daughter," he says, nodding at me. I feel my face heat up from the attention.

"Late last week, an officer on patrol near the Microsoft headquarters pulled over a car with expired tags. The driver had a gun on the passenger seat, but no concealed carry permit. The officer searched the car and found a large amount of jewelry. He didn't buy the man's story about how he had obtained it and brought him down to the station for questioning.

"Later that night, a couple came down to the station to report that their home had been broken into while they were both at work. I took the report and noted that the jewelry they'd reported missing sounded a lot like the items found in the car earlier in the day. They later identified the jewelry as theirs."

"I'm sorry," Esme begins, "But I don't see what this has to do with Edward's case?"

"We then checked our records for other robberies within a five-mile radius of the couple's address, as they may have been committed by the same man. The Webers' home showed up on the list," he explains. "As most of the items stolen from their home had been jewelry as well, that got me wondering if there may be a connection.

"The gun that we found in the robbery suspect's car was a 9mm, and it had two bullets missing from the chamber. I had a friend of mine in Ballistics test the gun," he continues. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but every gun leaves a unique marking on the bullets that are fired from it. I was a little more skeptical of Mr. Cullen's guilt than others around here, so I asked my friend to test the gun. He could compare the markings on a bullet fired from the gun to the bullet found in Mrs. Weber's body."

"And that would prove Edward didn't do it if they match!" I exclaim. I almost want to jump out of my seat and start dancing around. I look over at Esme and notice a look of cautious optimism on her face.

"They did match. Ballistics tests show that the gun found in the suspect's car is the murder weapon," Officer Biers states.

"So you've solved the case," Esme exclaims. "This proves Edward is innocent."

"Well, not so fast," Officer Biers cautions. "We don't know yet when the robbery suspect obtained the gun. The registration number on the gun had been filed off, so we were unable to check it against any databases. It could be Mr. Cullen's gun — we don't know. It's still possible that he committed the murder and then disposed of the gun."

"He didn't have a gun at the time of the murder!" I yell. "He got rid of his gun five years ago."

"You're certain that he got rid of it?" he asks skeptically.

"Yes, I'm sure," I insist. "He… um, no one can use what I say against Edward in an old case, right? If he was already convicted and served his time?"

"It's fine, Bells," my dad says.

"Ok, then… Edward had a gun when he held up a liquor store when he was 19, though he said he never took it out of his pocket. As he was running from the scene, he heard sirens and tossed the gun into a dumpster. The police caught up to him and arrested him, but they were never able to find the gun."

"She's right," Esme says quietly. "Edward was charged with armed robbery, but when no trace of a gun was ever found, he was convicted of a lesser charge. There's no way he could've hidden it somewhere and then gotten it back after three years in prison."

Officer Biers stares at Esme, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. "I believe you," he finally says. "I think the police in that case would've found the gun if he still had it."

"So this means the driver that the officer pulled over is the real killer," I say excitedly.

"Quite possible," the officer allows. "It's also still a possibility that he found the gun after it had been used to commit the murder. The real killer could've gotten rid of it."

"A real killer who _wasn't_ Edward," I insist.

"It's also still a possibility that Edward obtained another gun illegally and used that to commit the murder before throwing it away," Officer Biers says. He's wrong; I _know_ he is.

"What do we do now?" Esme asks.

"Well, being in possession of a gun that has been used in a murder should be enough to get a search warrant for the suspect's home. Maybe something will turn up there. I can take another look at the list of items reported stolen from the Weber residence. I'll see if I can go along on the search so that I can specifically look for any of those items."

"You'd do that?" Esme asks, tears forming in her eyes.

"I became a police officer because I want to see that justice is done," Officer Biers states. "If your son has been wrongfully convicted, then I want to see him freed."

"We all want that," Carlisle states.

Officer Biers hands each of us his business card, then asks us to write our names and phone numbers on a sheet of paper so that he can contact us directly with any news.

"Hopefully we can get the search warrant tomorrow; otherwise it'll be Monday," he states as we stand up to leave.

"Thank you so much," I tell him, shaking his hand again. "Edward is innocent; I know it."

"Are you going back to Forks tonight, Dad?" I ask as we step outside. I am nervous about him driving four hours in this weather. A few sessions with a therapist aren't enough to cure my fear of icy roads.

"I don't have to," he replies. "I have night shift tomorrow, so I could stay in town."

"I got a bedroom set for one of the two guest rooms, so you can stay with me?"

"Sounds great, Bells," he says, throwing his arm around me to lead me to his car. I wave to Carlisle and Esme, wishing them a safe drive home.

* * *

The following Tuesday, I'm eating a turkey sandwich on my lunch break when I get a call from Esme. She's crying so hysterically that I can't understand a word she's saying.

"Esme, calm down," I plead. "I can't understand you!"

"_He had a watch,_" she says, trying to catch her breath.

"He _who_? What are you talking about?"

"_The man who had the murder weapon,_" she explains. "_Officer Biers called to tell me that they found a watch in his apartment. The watch was stolen from the Webers._"

I gasp. "Are they sure it's the same watch?"

"_Yes, they're sure. It had an inscription inside, from Mrs. Weber to her husband for their twentieth anniversary._"

"So he's the real killer!" I shout.

"_It sure looks that way,_" she replies. "_I've already called Edward's lawyer, and he's on his way to the police station now. He cautioned me that he needed to get all of the facts, that this may not be enough to free Edward. The slimeball could always claim that he found the watch, or bought it somewhere. But Officer Biers said that they'll try hard to get a confession out of him._"

"So this could be over," I whisper. "Oh my God, Edward could even be home for Christmas."

"_I'll keep you posted, all right?_"

"Thanks, Esme. This is the best news I've heard in a very long time."

After I hang up, I can't stop crying. Jasper finds me bawling in our small break room, and once I'm able to explain what happened, he holds me while I cry happy tears. Please, God, please let Edward come home.

* * *

Three days. It took three whole days of questioning for James Hunter to confess to the break-in and murder of Rachel Weber.

According to his confession, he'd purchased the gun from a man on the street in late 2011. Since then he'd committed a string of break-ins around the area. He swore that Mrs. Weber was the only person he'd shot during his crime spree.

James Hunter is apparently an intelligent man, a child prodigy. He meticulously planned each break-in, casing out each targeted house for a week or two so that he could learn the owners' habits, which is why Mrs. Weber was the only homeowner to interrupt a robbery in progress. He'd panicked and shot her when she stepped into the kitchen.

In the months since the murder, he'd fenced the vast majority of items that he'd stolen from their home. Because of the inscription on the watch, he was unable to sell it without fear of getting caught.

Friday afternoon, Edward's lawyer filed a motion to have his conviction overturned. With the holiday next week, it isn't looking likely for Edward to be home for Christmas. Mr. Marks believes that the earliest possible date that they can get before a judge would be Thursday or Friday.

That gives me a week to figure out how the hell I'm going to tell him about the baby. When his parents last saw Edward on the tenth of this month, we didn't know anything about James Hunter, so I don't know anything about Edward's current mental state. Next Monday would be Esme's usual visiting day, but being Christmas Eve, the day was booked up months ago with planned visits and we aren't able to see him.

I pray that three months in prison isn't long enough to change Edward. I hope he's still the man I knew back in September. And I hope with every bone in my body that he wants me — and our baby.

* * *

**A/N: **So, that's that. :) I hope no one is disappointed that there was no big conspiracy! This story was never about that. The police were actually right about the scenario, just wrong about the perpetrator.

No teaser for Thursday, but I'd love to know what you all would like to see happen!


	24. December 27

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Blah blah, highly anticipated chapter, blah blah...

* * *

_Thursday, December 27, 2012_

Two days after Christmas, I lean against the wall of the courtroom, trying to remain calm. Edward will be here any minute. His lawyer, Alec Marks, requested a hearing to present the new evidence and ask for Edward's conviction to be overturned. A judge agreed to hear the case this afternoon.

Esme picked me up from work just after lunch so that I could attend the hearing. I spent at least a half hour getting dressed this morning, trying to find clothing that would hide my pregnancy. I have no choice but to wear maternity pants now, but since it's winter, I can get away with wearing a large fluffy sweater that hides my growing stomach. I plan to tell Edward at the first opportunity, but that's just it — I want to _tell_ him instead of letting him find out another way.

I'm shocked at the number of reporters lurking around the courtroom. I know Edward had told me that he was kind of infamous in Seattle, but I'm still surprised at the media's interest in the case.

The chatter around the courtroom gets louder when a man in a dark blue suit enters the room, sitting down at one of the tables in the front.

"That's the prosecutor," Esme whispers in my ear. I nod. Edward and his lawyer can't be far behind.

A bailiff asks everyone to please take their seats. I sit with Esme and Carlisle directly behind the defendant's table. Esme squeezes my hand when she notices the way it's shaking.

I hear the courtroom door open behind us and turn around. My jaw drops when Edward steps into view. Someone must have brought him street clothes, because he's wearing black dress slacks and a light blue button down shirt. His hair is longer than I've seen it and he is drop dead gorgeous. He winks in our direction as his lawyer leads him to the front of the courtroom, and I feel like a teenager with butterflies in my stomach. Esme leans forward and puts her hand on her son's shoulder once he sits down, but I'm too afraid to touch him.

We all rise when the Judge walks into the courtroom and court is called into session. When we're told to be seated, I fold my hands together in prayer.

I watch in fascination as Mr. Marks lays out his argument for overturning the conviction. He steps through all of the new evidence, beginning with Angela Weber's new statement and the cell phone records that back it up. He then explains that James Hunter was found in possession of both the murder weapon and at least one item stolen from the Weber household, finishing by presenting the Judge with a signed copy of Hunter's confession.

I hold my breath when the State is given a chance to contest the defense's assertions, but instead, the prosecutor confirms their intention to charge Mr. Hunter with the crime. By the time the Judge retires to his chambers to read over the evidence provided, I'm unable to hold back my tears. There's no justice in the world if he doesn't agree to overturn the earlier court's decision.

While we wait, Edward chats quietly with his lawyer. I continue to cry softly, wishing he'd just turn around so I can look at him. Esme wraps one arm around me, hugging me to her. "It's going to be fine," she says quietly. And I know she's not just talking about the outcome here in the courtroom.

After about ten minutes, the Judge walks back into the courtroom to announce his decision. I hold tightly to Esme's hand as he begins to speak.

"I reviewed the original court transcripts earlier this afternoon. After reading through Miss Weber's new statement, it strikes me that had she given this version of events to the police from the outset, there might not have been a trial, let alone a conviction. I hope that the State is considering perjury charges against Miss Weber, because her testimony most likely led to Mr. Cullen spending several months in prison for a crime he did not commit."

My breath hitches — it sounds very much like he's going to rule in Edward's favor.

"In light of Mr. Hunter's confession and the fact that he was in possession of both the murder weapon and stolen property, I believe that the chances that he will be convicted of this very same crime are quite high. I hereby rule that Mr. Cullen's conviction is overturned. You're free to go, Mr. Cullen. Court is dismissed."

I can't hold in my sobs as we all stand when the Judge leaves the courtroom. Esme immediately steps around to the defense table to hug Edward tightly. When she finally lets him go, Carlisle hugs him just as tightly, slapping him on the back. I'm scarcely aware of the reporters trying to get a comment, their microphones and notepads in hand.

I make my way to the aisle, unsure of what exactly I should do now. I notice Edward looking around the courtroom before his eyes fall on me. He smiles and then takes two large steps in my direction. Before I even realize what is happening, his arms are around me. Suddenly he shifts his arms to lift me up until my feet are off the ground, swinging me around while he buries his face in my neck.

I'm so happy to feel his arms around me again that I don't even realize what this means. Until he freezes, setting me back on my feet and stepping back. When he stares at me, his expression looks like he's seen a ghost. Oh my God… he felt my stomach. For a long moment, he just continues to stare, his mouth hanging open. He doesn't speak — he looks like he _can't_.

The longer he remains frozen without speaking, the more my heart sinks. He doesn't want us.

"Ed—Edward," I stutter. "It's ok, Edward."

I swallow thickly, my eyes filling with fresh tears. "You don't… I'm not asking you for anything. I know it's—it's a shock, and it's not something you expected to have to deal with. You want to enjoy your freedom now, of course you do. And you can. I can do this by myself. "

My heart is breaking in two as I speak the words, but I will never, ever force Edward to try to be someone else _for me_. Of course he doesn't want to be a father at this stage in his life. How stupid was I to ever think that he would be happy about this.

When I look up into his eyes, he's still staring. Slowly, he reaches out his hand and places it on my stomach. His eyes widen even further as he feels the small swell in my abdomen. "Bella?" he whispers questioningly.

"Edward," Mr. Marks interrupts, his hand on Edward's shoulder. "A couple of the guards have agreed to escort us down to the parking garage so we can avoid the media onslaught. We need to leave right now though."

He tugs on Edward's arm and his gaze drops from mine as he turns away. I begin sobbing again as he walks away from me. Esme and Carlisle, who are standing near the courtroom door, follow in step with Edward and his lawyer as they leave the room.

Once he's gone, a couple members of the media pounce on the prosecutor, but the rest of them exit the courtroom, along with the rest of the crowd. In a daze, I walk out behind the crowd, leaning against the back wall of the elevator to keep myself from falling over as we descend to the ground floor.

* * *

Four days later, I sit on my couch wearing my flannel pajamas covered with dozens of Siamese kittens — a Christmas gift from my mother — and petting Leo while I watch a recording of the ball dropping in Times Square three hours ago.

I haven't heard from Edward since his lawyer led him away from me in the courthouse. Not a peep. I've picked up my phone to call Esme multiple times, but I always put it away without making the call. I just feel like I'd be going behind his back if I ask Edward's mother what he's thinking. She may consider me "family," but of course her loyalty is to her son.

I tell myself that it's all right. Everything I said to him in the courtroom was true — I can raise the baby by myself if I have to. From the time I was a toddler until I was 17 years old, I had a father for two weeks out of the year, and I turned out all right. Well, maybe some would debate that.

When I tire of the musical performances and inane chatter from the hosts of the New Year's Eve shows, I force Leo off my lap and head into my bedroom. As I crawl into bed, I can't help wondering where Edward is tonight, and what he's doing. People his age are probably filling the clubs — drinking, dancing… and looking for someone to take home for the night. Leo jumps up onto the bed and I hug him close, trying to stop my brain from imagining Edward in another woman's arms.

I'm almost asleep when a noise startles me awake. I listen closely for a few seconds, but I don't hear anything. Perhaps 20 seconds later, I hear it again, a knocking somewhere in the house. I'm trying to figure out where the noise could be coming from when my doorbell rings. There's someone at my door? At 2am on New Year's Day?

I crawl out of bed, walking down the hallway to the entryway. The knocking sounds again before I can reach the door. I flip the porch light on and peer through the peep hole to see who's out there. Nothing could've prepared me for what I find.

"Edward," I whisper to myself. I hurry to unlock the door and throw it open. And then I stare. Dressed in a black leather jacket and blue jeans that hug his hips and thighs perfectly, his long hair in complete disarray, I've never seen him more beautiful. Or more sexy.

Before I can blink, he steps inside, slamming the door behind him. My mind has barely registered that _Edward_ is in my house before his lips are on mine. His tongue fights its way into my mouth, but I put up no resistance. I don't care that he tastes like alcohol — I return his kiss eagerly.

I wrap my arms around Edward's neck, trying to bury myself in him, despite the shock of cold wherever his leather jacket is touching me. I feel his hands on my backside before he picks me up. My legs automatically encircle his waist as I cling to him.

His kisses are hungry, like he'll never get enough. He finally pulls away from my mouth, but his lips never leave my skin. "Bedroom," he mumbles against my neck.

Reluctantly, I unwind one arm so that I can point to the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. And then we're moving, me clinging to Edward's front like a spider monkey. I'm not worried about him finding the right room, since the master bedroom is the only one with the door open.

Edward sets me down gently on the edge of the bed and his hands immediately reach for the hem of my pajama top, pulling it over my head. I scoot into the middle of the bed and lie back, my body humming in anticipation as he yanks my flannel pants down.

Edward wastes no time in stripping down to his boxers before he climbs on top of me, moaning as he claims my mouth once again. I run my fingers through his wonderfully messy hair, loving the softness of it against my skin. One of his hands slides down from my face until he's massaging my breast.

I want to pout when his lips leave my own, until I feel them close gently over one of my nipples. "Oh my God," I groan. My breasts are so sensitive from the pregnancy. He switches sides, turning both nipples into hard little peaks. Holding one of my breasts in each hand, he brushes his thumbs lightly over my nipples.

"Fuck, they're bigger," he blurts out, almost in awe.

And that snaps me out of my lust-induced stupor. "Edward… we really need to talk."

"Later," he growls, kissing each nipple one more time before he begins trailing his lips down my torso. His tongue circles my navel and I can't help crying out. When he reaches the small bump below my waist, he places a lingering kiss on my skin before looking up at me. "Is it ok?" he whispers.

"The baby's fine," I assure him.

"Is it ok to… have sex?" he whispers.

"Yes," I nod. "You can't hurt the baby."

Very slowly, he begins peeling my panties down my legs, tossing them to the floor. He quickly removes his own boxers before he kisses his way up my inner thighs.

"Edward," I moan impatiently, "I need you inside me."

Moving quickly, he crawls over me, whispering in my ear, "I love it when you beg for my cock." With his left hand, he reaches down, stroking gently between my legs.

"Please tell me you're not going to make me wear a condom."

I can't help the giggle that escapes. "I think it's a little late for that."

He kisses me again as he reaches down, coating his cock in my wetness before sliding inside. He stops once he's buried to the hilt. "Oh fuck, I forgot how tight you are," he mumbles.

He curls his arms under my shoulders, holding me tightly as he begins to move. My body is screaming at me — closer, closer! I wrap my legs around his waist, rubbing my hands up and down his back. I love the feel of his muscles contracting underneath my fingers.

His mouth remains connected to some part of me at all times, seeming to make a continuous circuit between my lips, my neck, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts. I lift my hips to meet his long, deep thrusts, wishing this could go on forever. _God_, he feels good.

As I feel my climax approaching, I push at his very fine ass with my ankles, trying to push him in deeper. When his movements speed up and his kisses turn into pants, I know he's getting close. I just need him to hang on a little longer. Suddenly he reaches down, rubbing tight circles with his finger just where I need him.

"Oh God," I scream as white light flashes in front of my eyes.

"It's Edward, baby, not God," he growls as he thrusts erratically three more times before he stills, spilling inside me with a long groan.

I close my eyes exhausted as Edward collapses, burying his face in my neck. He seems to be trying hard to keep his full weight off of me. Slowly, I straighten out my legs, still hugging him tightly to me.

As my breathing slows, I begin stroking his hair again. I can almost swear he's purring.

"Edward." I poke him in the shoulder. "I need to go clean up."

"Mmmm…" he mumbles, but he finally slips out of me as he rolls to his side. "Sorry it wasn't my best work," he says sleepily. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

I chuckle as I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Don't go," he protests, holding on to my wrist.

"I'll be right back," I promise.

Once I'm finished in the bathroom, I locate my underwear on the floor and slip them on. After finding my pajamas, I crawl back into bed. Edward's arm slides around my waist, pulling me back into his warm, bare chest almost as soon as I'm underneath the covers. I have no idea what is running through his head; right now all I care about is that I'm in his arms. We'll deal with the rest tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N: **Go ahead and tell me how much you love me for not including the first half of this chapter with the last one and making you wait for the conclusion. ;)

The FF book cover is the image of Edward at Bella's door.

Coming on Monday: Edward faces his "later."


	25. January 1, Pt 1

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

The math nerd had to add up the votes: looks like about 25-30% want Edward and the Cullens' heads on a platter, while the rest are going to give Edward a pass until he can explain himself, or are just happy that they're back together. :)

* * *

_Tuesday, January 1, 2013_

I wake up feeling much too warm. I can't figure out why until I realize that I'm surrounded by a very warm male body. Edward fell asleep holding me, and I don't think he's let go all night. I can't really move, so I continue to lie there on my side, thinking about last night.

I have no idea what it means that Edward came to me last night. After hearing nothing for four days, I didn't expect to find him drunk on my doorstep at 2am. And I certainly didn't expect… well, everything that happened after that. His "abilities" certainly haven't suffered from the amount of alcohol he'd probably consumed, or lack of practice.

_Oh God._ Edward has been out of prison for four days — what if he's been with other women?

No, I can't let myself think like that. If he'd been with other women, why would he come back to _me_?

With a sigh, I close my eyes and try to get a little more sleep. Unfortunately, my bladder has other ideas. Very carefully, I peel Edward's arm off of me and slide out of bed. As long as I'm up, I decide to shower and get dressed.

When I come out of the bathroom, Edward is still asleep, so I decide to leave him be. I put some food out for my hungry cat and then think about what I can make for breakfast. Or lunch rather, given that it's already close to 11am. Maybe brunch.

I decide to throw together a casserole with plenty of vegetables, since I need to eat more healthy food. Once I've got it in the oven, I peek at Edward to find him still asleep, now hugging my pillow. Shaking my head, I decide to let him sleep it off.

When the casserole is almost done, I open the oven door to sprinkle some shredded cheese on top. As I close the door and stand up, I'm startled when a pair of tattooed arms wind their way around my waist.

Edward brushes my hair to the side and begins kissing along one side of my neck. I can feel him hard against my back.

"Edward, stop," I protest. "Lunch is almost ready."

Of course he doesn't listen to me, his fingers wandering underneath the hem of my sweater. I pull his arms away and manage to turn around in his embrace.

"Oh my God!"

"What?" he chuckles.

"You're naked!"

"And you're not," he replies, raising one eyebrow.

"I am not getting naked right now. Lunch will be ready in five minutes. And you still smell like beer — go take a shower or something."

"You gonna join me?" At my silent stare, he sticks his lip out in a pout, but turns around and walks out of the kitchen. I forgot to tell him that I put an extra toothbrush out for him on the sink, but I imagine he'll find it.

Just after I set the casserole on the table, Edward returns, his hair still damp. At least he's wearing boxers this time. Instead of sitting down, he heads straight for me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me senseless. He definitely found the toothbrush.

"Edward," I warn at the first opportunity, "It's gonna get cold."

Rolling his eyes, he pulls out a chair and sits down. "This looks healthy," he frowns, spooning some of the casserole onto his plate.

"Sorry. I need to eat plenty of veggies."

He gives me a small smile. "It's fine. Anything is better than prison food." He must really like it, because I've barely made a dent in my portion when he's already getting seconds. Of course, I'm a little distracted by staring at his naked chest. I really missed his naked chest.

"So you were sleeping off a big night out, huh?"

"What?"

"You slept until noon, Edward."

"Oh… yeah," he replies quietly. "I, um, really haven't had a good night's sleep in three months."

Almost immediately I feel guilty for even questioning it. I have no idea what he's been through, and I'm not sure I want to.

"We really need to talk now — it's later," I tell him.

He nods. "I know," he replies, running his fingers through his hair.

"You need a haircut," I blurt.

He smirks. "You seemed to like my hair last night, baby."

I smile, shaking my head. I know I'm blushing — he's got me there.

"Go put some clothes on, Edward," I suggest once we're both finished eating. "We can't talk when you're practically naked."

"Because you'll want to jump me instead?" he asks with a smirk.

I roll my eyes, pointing toward the bedroom. With a huff, he goes to get dressed. Damn right, I want to jump him.

I quickly rinse off our plates and put the leftovers in the fridge. When I turn around, Edward is standing right in front of me, dressed in his jeans and a tight black t-shirt. "Jesus, you scared me," I yelp. I'm held captive by the look in his eyes as he takes a step closer, his mouth descending on mine again. When he pulls back, he leans his forehead against mine. "I missed you," he whispers.

I peck his lips softly. "I missed you, too. So much. Talk now, yeah?"

He nods, stepping back and taking a deep breath. He grabs hold of my hand and leads me into the living room. I move to sit beside him, but he pulls me onto his lap, straddling his thighs. "Edward," I groan. "We need to have a serious talk."

"We can talk like this," he replies with a smirk. "I'm not letting you go," he adds more quietly.

Now that I've got him here like this, I have no idea where to start. So many questions are swirling around in my brain. Do I start with the most pressing question? I don't even know what that is.

"I don't… know where to start," I tell him quietly.

"Start anywhere. We have all the time in the world," he replies with a smile, his hands lazily stroking my sides.

"Last night… you were drunk when you got here."

"Is that a question?" he asks with a smirk. I glare at him. "Of course I was — it was New Year's Eve! Isn't the holiday all about drinking?"

"Did you… drive here?"

"No, Mom," he rolls his eyes. "I took a cab."

"So you were at a bar?"

"Yeah," he nods. "A couple of my buddies showed up and dragged me out with them. It was sort of a welcome home celebration, in addition to the holiday. I don't think I bought one of my own drinks all night," he smirks.

"Were there… girls there?" I hold my breath.

"At the bar? Yeah, of course." When I don't reply, he tilts his head as if he's studying me. "Are you _jealous_, Bella?" I feel my face heat up. "Oh my God, you _are_ jealous!"

I shrug. What can I say? I am.

"Baby, I'm not gonna lie, I probably had two dozen offers before midnight."

"Offers?" I interrupt. He looks at me pointedly and I understand — offers of sexual favors. I hang my head, until he lifts my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye.

"None of those girls held any interest for me, baby. I came here to _you_."

I want to scoff… surely he had _some_ interest in them. I'm sure they were much sexier than me, more willing to do whatever he wanted.

"I only want you, Bella," he says quietly, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss.

"But you said you didn't want me!" I cry.

"What?" He looks totally confused. "I never said that," he insists.

"You did — the last time I saw you at the prison."

He stares at me, brow furrowed, before he chuckles. He thinks this is _funny_? "Baby, I told you I didn't want you to come back and visit me. I was trying to do the right thing. I never stopped wanting you, but I was trying to do what was best for you."

He looks at me so tenderly that I can feel tears pricking at my eyes. I want so badly to believe him.

"Where the hell have you been, Edward?" I whisper. "I didn't hear anything from you for four days."

He gives me a sheepish grin. "Well, it really wasn't quite as simple as, 'You're free to go, Mr. Cullen.' There were a lot of legal details I had to take care of, including the fact that I, you know, escaped on the way to prison. I'm entitled to compensation for being wrongfully convicted, but my lawyer also wanted to talk to me about any other possible legal action."

"You mean you could sue?"

"Yeah," he nods, "But I just want it all to be over. The police are charging Hunter now, so I had to give a statement in that case on Friday. And you heard what the Judge said, that Angela should be charged with perjury."

"Do you want that?" I ask quietly.

"Mom does," he chuckles. "She's pretty fierce when someone hurts her baby. I don't care… I mean, I don't really want to have to see her again. I had to give a statement for that case, too. And then there are the never-ending requests for interviews — the newspaper, all of the local TV news programs. A wrongful conviction is pretty big news."

"I… didn't even think about all of that."

He smiles at me, playing with the ends of my hair. "I'm not going to tell you that I wasn't shocked when I realized you were… pregnant."

Ah yes, now we're getting to the real reason it's been four days. "Edward, I swear I didn't want you to find out like that! I was so careful to choose clothes that would cover it up, so I had a chance to tell you myself."

He nods. "Once I got over the shock… I was pretty angry with you for not telling me earlier."

"I tried to—" Edward places two fingers over my mouth, stopping me.

"I know, baby. Mom explained that you tried to tell me and I wouldn't let you talk. I get it — I'm not mad anymore."

"Promise?" I whisper.

"I promise," he vows, kissing me softly. "Those things you said in the courtroom — I felt like you were telling me that you didn't want me to be a part of your life."

"No! Edward, no!"

"Mom had to talk me off the ledge on that one, too. She and Dad were trying to give us privacy, so they never heard what you said, but she swore that you did want me to be a father to the baby. And my dad gave me quite the lecture on responsibility. I kinda had to get my head out of my ass before I could come see you," he says sheepishly. "I asked Mom for your address and I was planning to stop by after you got off work yesterday, but then my buddies showed up.

"I know I should've called you or something, I just… I needed to wrap my head around everything first. With all of the legal shit and the interview requests, I just couldn't string ten minutes together to figure anything out. And I asked Mom to stay out of it and not call you," he adds. "Please don't be mad at her. She was pretty pissed at me for not contacting you."

"I wasn't mad," I reply softly. "I knew her first priority right now would be you."

"Still, I know she felt really bad. She told me you'd become close, that you lived with them when you first came back to Seattle."

"Yeah, I did. I had been looking into homes online after you had encouraged me to move back, but then when we found out I was pregnant, I needed to move sooner so that I could see a doctor."

Edward places his hand over my stomach. "Everything is really ok with the baby?"

"It's fine, I promise. I have my next appointment tomorrow, actually."

"I'm coming with you," he states with no room for argument.

"I want that very much," I whisper. "I really wished you were there at the last appointment when we heard the heartbeat for the first time. I do want you to be a part of your child's life, Edward. I want that more than anything. But I meant what I said in the courtroom — I don't want you to have to change who you are. If you want to enjoy your freedom and go back to the life you used to lead, I'm not going to stop you."

"What exactly do you mean by the life I used to lead?" he asks curiously.

"I mean… the illegal drugs, mostly. I don't want that near my child."

"Marijuana was legalized while I was in prison, you know," he says with a smirk.

"Have you… been using drugs since you got out?" I ask tentatively.

"I'm not a drug addict; I have a good time. Look," he says, running his hands through his hair, "I really have barely touched anything since I was arrested. I can live without drugs. No, I haven't had anything worse than a shot of tequila since the day I met you."

"I'm not asking you to change. I don't want to… neuter you."

"What! Like you did Leo?" Edward starts laughing hysterically, nearly knocking me off his lap. I slap at his chest to get him to be serious.

"I know, baby, I get what you're saying. It's entirely my choice to… grow up," he finishes, rolling his eyes and shuddering. I think he's kidding. "But we'll talk about the weed later," he adds with a wink.

"And all of the women?" I whisper, ducking my head.

"You are the only woman in my life."

"For now! What about when you get bored with me? I'm nothing like the women you meet in bars. I'm not kinky!"

Edward laughs again and I just want to punch him. "Why do you insist that my type is 'kinky'?"

"You said Angela was kinky."

He rolls his eyes, sighing as he shakes his head. "I don't know how to say this so it gets through your thick skull. Yes, I've called you a Pollyanna. But there really is a sexy woman in there who just needs a little help in coming to the surface. I'm not going to get bored with you, and I don't want to be with other women. I had a chance last night and I came back to _you_, Bella."

I look at him skeptically. He seems so sincere. I do believe that he means what he's saying _now_, but what about in the future?

"You still don't get it, do you?" he says quietly, tucking my hair behind my ear. "You risked everything for me — your relationship with your father, your own freedom. You helped a stranger when you had every opportunity to tell the police and not deal with my sorry ass. I don't deserve you. I can behave myself for the rest of my life and I'll probably still never deserve you. But I'm essentially a selfish creature. I want you too much to walk away."

He pauses, brushing away the tears rolling down my face. "I love you, Bella. I want to be with you and be a father to our baby, ok? I know I suck with words, so… will you let me show you now?"

"Show me?" I whisper.

"Show you how much I love you." Edward holds my head in his hands, kissing every part of my face, ending on my lips. He leans his forehead against mine and I swear I see a tear on his cheek. "I want you naked now," he whispers. "Meet you in the bedroom."

I chuckle at his directness, climbing off of his lap. God, I want him — I'm no longer cursing my pregnancy hormones.

"What are you waiting for?" he smirks.

I hurry to the bedroom, stripping down to my bra and underwear and laying the rest of my clothes neatly on the dresser. I climb onto the still-unmade bed, wondering why exactly Edward sent me on ahead.

When Edward shows up a minute later, he's carrying… my winter scarf?

"What's that for?" I ask, nodding toward the scarf.

"You'll see," he smirks, setting it on the edge of the bed while he strips out of his clothes. I watch hungrily as each new inch of skin is revealed. When he's completely naked, he stands there staring at me. "Why did you leave those on?"

"It's more fun when you take them off," I reply with a wink.

With a huge grin, Edward kneels on the bed, crawling on all fours until he's surrounding me. When he kisses me, I waste no time in threading my fingers through his hair, holding his face to mine. We kiss until we're both breathless, then he begins trailing kisses down my neck, leaving goosebumps in his path.

He reaches behind me with one hand to unsnap my bra, then carefully pulls it off, tossing it to the floor. "They're bigger because of the baby?" he asks, kneading my breasts in his hands.

I nod. "And they're probably going to get even bigger."

"Mmm… I think I may have to keep you pregnant all the time," he growls, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. I close my eyes and just feel. He's so very, very good at this. When he finally leaves my breasts, I want to pout.

My eyes are still closed when he takes my hands in his, holding them up above my head. I open my eyes to see him picking up the scarf. I'm confused until I realize he's tying my hands to the bars of my iron headboard.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Tying you up," he smirks. "You're at my mercy now."

"Edward," I protest.

"Shut up and enjoy it," he growls before yanking my panties down and spreading my legs. Using his forearms to hold me down, he takes one long lick from my entrance up to my clit, lifting his head to smirk at me before diving in again.

"Holy shit!" I can't help crying out as he works me over, alternating between long licks and quick pecks in just the right spot. He lets go of my hips with one hand and begins pumping two fingers in and out of me at a steadily increasing pace. This is going to be over much too quickly.

"Just let go, baby," he whispers before sucking my clit into his mouth.

I scream out my orgasm, feeling shudders throughout my entire body. Edward continues leisurely for a few moments before he stops, looking up at me.

"You're beautiful when you come," he says quietly.

I'm still recovering from the aftershocks when Edward lifts my hips, sliding his very talented cock inside easily. He begins sucking on my nipples again while his thrusts drive me wild.

"Edward… untie me." I need to be touching him.

"Nope," he replies, "Not yet."

He brings me nearly to the brink once again before he pauses, pulling at my restraints. Once I'm freed, I immediately wrap my arms around him, scratching my nails down his back. His movements speed up and I let go, my orgasm rippling through me.

"Fuuuuck," he moans. "You'll be the death of me one day. I don't want this to be over yet."

In a flash, he rolls us over so that I'm on top. I get the hint and begin moving my hips, letting Edward guide me. He leans up to take one of my breasts in his mouth while I brace myself on his shoulders.

I'm mumbling incoherently as I near another climax. Edward pulls me down until we're skin-to-skin, still pistoning his hips. "I love you," he whispers before he kisses me. We trade sloppy kisses, both breathing heavily, and then I'm coming once again.

Edward groans loudly, following right behind me. I collapse onto his chest in a daze. He hugs me tightly to his body as I close my eyes. Once I've caught my breath, I lift my head, leaning my chin on his chest. "I love you too, Edward."

He beams at me, and I reluctantly detach myself from him, rolling onto my side.

"So you just let a guy tie you up and fuck you — that means you're officially kinky. I don't want to hear another word about that — got it?"

I can't help laughing. "Got it," I nod.

Edward reaches his hand out, stroking up and down my back as he rolls to face me. "I don't know how to be in love," he says quietly. "I know I'm going to screw up, but I promise I'll never hurt you."

I smile, running my finger over his beautiful, scruffy face. I know that no one can truly promise that — he may never hurt me intentionally, but that's no guarantee I'll never be hurt.

"I need a nap," he moans, closing his eyes. "It was awful, sleeping on a fucking cot in a cold prison cell. I missed your warmth. I know I said I wasn't a cuddler, but all I wanted, all I wished for every night, was the chance to hold you again, the chance to sleep beside you. Please don't make me ever sleep alone again."

My hand stills. Is he asking what I think he's asking?

"You… you want to move in?"

He nods, sucking my finger into his mouth gently before releasing it with a pop. "I want to go to sleep with you and wake up with you every morning. I want to be here for every moment of your pregnancy and every moment of our baby's life."

"Ok," I whisper. I want that, too.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I nod, kissing him sweetly. "Um, I hate to break the mood, but… I sort of need to go clean up."

I turn around as I head into the bathroom, watching a naked Edward lounging on the bed and watching _me_. Good God, I think I want him again.

As I make my way back to the bed, I hear a phone ringing, but I don't think it's mine. Edward scrambles off the bed, grabbing his jacket from where he'd tossed it on the floor last night. He pulls out his phone, rolling his eyes at whatever he sees on the caller ID.

"Hi, Mom," he says. "Yeah, of course I'm at Bella's."

I shake my head. I'm so used to Edward staying with me that it didn't even occur to me that he didn't "come home" last night. His mom must've been worried sick to see him go off with his friends to a bar and not return.

I slide into bed next to him and Edward grabs hold of my hand, kissing it while he listens to Esme probably berating him — like he deserves. "Yeaaaahh, ok," he finally says. Hanging up, he tosses the phone toward the end of the bed, falling onto his back.

"You worried her, didn't you?"

He nods sheepishly. "Mom wants us to come over for dinner. I guess we can go — we can get my stuff if you're really gonna let me move in here."

"I think I'll keep you."

* * *

**A/N: **This got too long, so I split it into two parts. Part 2 will be posted on Thursday, including dinner with Edward's parents!

How are we all feeling about Edward now? Still want his head on a platter? Or has he convinced you? :)

**Big news!** Reason for Living has been nominated for "Fic of the Week" over at The Lemonade Stand! This is the first time one of my fics has been nominated for this, so I'm super excited! Voting ends at midnight (US Eastern time) on Wednesday. I'd appreciate your vote!

Vote here: tehlemonadestand d-o-t net (yes the misspelling is intentional)


	26. January 1, Pt 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Thanks to everyone who voted in the Fic of the Week poll at The Lemonade Stand! I didn't make the Top 5, but just being nominated seems to have brought a lot of new readers to the story. Welcome to all of you! :)

* * *

_Tuesday, January 1, 2013_

I blink my eyes open, feeling Edward's heart beating beneath my ear. He's snoring lightly and I wonder how long we've been asleep. Absently, I begin stroking my fingers along the taut muscles of his abdomen. They seem a bit more defined than I remember, and I wonder if he's been working out in prison.

I lift my head up slightly so that I can watch my fingers as they trail downward, following the "V" between his hip bones down to where his lower half is covered by the sheet. I smile to myself as I push the covers down a few inches, revealing his cock — it's soft, something I rarely see. I continue to move my fingers further down until I reach it, traveling softly along the length before taking it in my hand.

Using a light grip with my thumb and forefinger, I pump his cock a couple times before sliding my thumb over the head. It's not long before I can feel it begin to harden from my ministrations, growing longer and thicker right in front of my eyes.

"Couldn't keep your hands off me, huh?" Edward mumbles quietly. I look up, chuckling when I notice his eyes are still closed.

"I missed you," I reply; that's really the only explanation necessary. "Is this ok?" I ask as I continue to stroke him. I remember him once complaining about handjobs.

"Mmmmm…" he mumbles. "That feels good."

I smile, even though he can't see me, before leaning over to suck on his hard little nipple.

"Are you trying to seduce me, baby?"

"Is it working?"

Finally his beautiful green eyes open, staring into mine.

"I missed your eyes," I tell him quietly.

He smirks. "Apparently you missed my dick, too."

"Pregnancy hormones," I shrug.

He laughs, surprising me as he shifts to his side, out from underneath my body. "Can you lie on your stomach?"

"Um, for a short time, maybe."

Edward's brow furrows, before he hands me one of the pillows. Still lying mostly on my right side, I bring the pillow underneath my chest, curling my arms around it.

"This is ok, right?" he asks as he climbs over me, trailing kisses up my spine. Gently, he brushes my hair out of the way so that he can continue up my neck. I turn my head so that he can reach my mouth. At first he just brushes his lips softly against mine, but then his tongue comes out to play.

I'm startled when he slowly slides inside me from behind. "Still ok?" he asks in a strained voice once he's buried to the hilt.

"Yes," I whisper.

Edward claims my lips again, kissing me softly as he begins to move. He keeps himself propped up on one arm while his other hand caresses me from my breasts to my hips. "You feel so good, baby," he groans. "So fucking tight like this."

I moan incoherently as he continues to piston his hips. His thrusts are slow, yet long and deep; it's like he's afraid to be rough with me. I let out a cry when the hand that has been wandering all over my torso eventually makes it between my legs.

"Bella," he pants, "Say it again."

I'm so close to coming I can't even think straight. "Say what again?" I ask in confusion.

"Tell me… you love me."

"Oh God," I moan when he hits just the right spot inside me. "I love you, Edward."

"Fuck!" His thrusts become erratic and before I know it, we're both reaching our peaks. I can feel myself clamping down on his cock as he groans loudly, coming in several long spurts. Breathing heavily, he rolls off of me onto his side, pulling me with him until I'm tucked up tight against the length of his body.

As his breathing slows, I feel two tears fall onto my shoulder when he buries his face in my neck. I pull myself out of Edward's arms, turning over to face him. Without a word, I reach up and tenderly brush his tears away.

"I thought I'd never hold you again," he whispers, another tear falling. "I didn't know if I'd ever see the outside of the prison."

"I never gave up on you, you know. I even asked my dad to look into your case. I would've done anything to get you free, even if you didn't want anything to do with us."

Now _I_ want to cry seeing the horrorstruck expression on his face. "Fuck, I'm so sorry I sent you away. I was trying do the right thing by you. But I missed you so much."

I lean in, placing a tender kiss on his lips. When I pull back, he stops me, pulling me close again. "I missed your mouth," he whispers.

We stay like that for what feels like hours, kissing and touching each other. I'd really be happy to just stay in bed with Edward forever, but I know we need to get up eventually. I sneak a quick peek at the clock on the bedside table and realize we need to get ready if we're going to go to his parents' house for dinner at 6:30.

"I'll take a quick shower and then you can jump in, ok?" I say on my way to the bathroom. "There's no way I'm going to your parents' house smelling like sex."

Edward rolls his eyes. "Like they won't know what we've been doing anyway," he says with a smirk.

I shake my head. Yeah, he's right, but still…

Twenty minutes later, I'm finishing up my hair when Edward reappears wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. "Do you still have my clothes?" he asks.

"Um, no… the cops in Aberdeen took them as evidence."

"Guess I'm doing the walk of shame then," he smirks.

"Are you almost ready? I'll call us a taxi."

He nods and I make the call while he gets dressed, then we head to the living room to wait. I smile when Leo jumps up onto Edward's lap. "Hey, buddy," he says, showering my cat with attention. "Did ya miss me?"

"He did," I tell him. "He looked all over for you after… after the police took you away."

Edward smiles, scratching under Leo's chin while he purrs.

"So you're still not driving?" he asks suddenly.

"No," I whisper. "I am in therapy and it's going really well, but we're focusing more on my feelings of guilt than my PTSD for now. I know what triggers that. A couple weeks ago, my therapist brought me out to her car in the parking lot, but… I couldn't do much more than start it up. I don't know if I'll ever get there. I can take the bus to and from work from here though."

"You don't need to take a bus. I have a car — you saw it in the garage, right?"

"Yeah… a Volvo, Edward — really?"

"It was my dad's old car before he bought his Mercedes," he explains. "It's not like I could afford to buy my own."

When the taxi honks outside, Edward moves a reluctant Leo from his lap and takes my hand, helping me up. He even helps me into my coat — who is this guy?

Once we reach Mercer Island, I pay the driver and Edward wraps his arm around my shoulders as he leads me up to the porch. Digging his keys out of his jacket pocket, he opens the front door. Almost immediately I smell the pot roast cooking. Edward leads me toward the kitchen where Esme is stirring a pot of what looks like mashed potatoes.

"Hey, Mom," he says.

She spins around, smiling widely when she sees us. And then her expression falls. "Bella… I am so sorry I didn't let you know what was happening," she says quietly.

"It's fine. Edward explained everything."

She smiles, nodding at me gratefully.

"Edward," Carlisle says, stepping into the room.

"Don't even say it," Edward begins. "I know I should've called. How much longer until dinner's ready, Mom?"

"Oh, about ten minutes."

"Cool. I'm gonna get started on packing then," he says, kissing me quickly before he leaves the kitchen.

"Packing?" Esme asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Um, Edward is going to be moving in with me," I reply, feeling my face heat up.

"So that means you don't need me to take you to your doctor's appointment tomorrow?" she asks with a grin.

I nod, unable to hold back my smile. "Edward wants to be there. He really wants to do this — be a father to his child."

"I had to help Edward come to a few realizations, but that wasn't one of them, Bella. At no time did he ever say that he didn't want the baby," she assures me. "And let me apologize again for not calling you."

"I understand, really," I insist. "I get that you wouldn't go against his wishes. And I know I had put you in an awkward position as well, asking you not to tell Edward about my pregnancy on your own."

"You got home from the courthouse ok? I swear I didn't mean to just leave you there," she says emphatically. "I didn't see what happened between you and Edward, and until we got to the back elevator, I'd thought you were following behind us."

"I, um, called a cab to get home, yeah. Edward wasn't saying anything and I thought… I thought he didn't want us. It never occurred to me to leave with you."

"Such a misunderstanding," Esme says, shaking her head. "It all worked out in the end, yes?" she adds with a smile. I nod in return.

We make small talk for a few minutes until Edward returns, planting a solid kiss on my lips as soon as he reaches me. It freaks me out a little for him to kiss me in front of his parents, but they're pretty good at pretending they don't notice.

When we step into the dining room, Edward frowns at the place settings, moving the setting from one end so that two are next to each other along the long side of the table. I look at him questioningly.

"I can't sit that far away from you," he explains, turning slightly pink.

It's difficult to eat one-handed, thanks to Edward holding tightly to my right hand the entire time we're eating dinner. Esme notices, smiling a secret smile at me. I'm so relieved that she seems pleased by our relationship.

"What are you planning to do now, Edward?" Carlisle asks. "Any thoughts on a job?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead," he shrugs.

"You're going to be a father in a few months. You need to start thinking of the future," his dad lectures.

"I know, Dad. I'm just… I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything. Right now the only thing I can focus on is going to Bella's doctor's appointment tomorrow."

I squeeze his hand, letting Edward know that I'm ok with him just the way he is. His spontaneity is one of the things I love about him. The future can wait until he adjusts to being out in society again.

After dinner, Edward runs upstairs to finish packing while I help Esme clear the table. I can tell his parents would like us to stay a bit longer, but Edward is clearly wanting to get me alone again.

"I've never seen him like this," Esme whispers confidentially. "It's so obvious how he feels about you."

"Edward told me that he loves me," I reply quietly, smiling at the huge grin that overtakes his mother's face.

"And you love him, too," she says.

"I do."

Once Edward has loaded everything into the car, we return to my — our — house and Edward carries his suitcases and boxes into the bedroom.

"I guess I'm gonna have to make room for your clothes, huh?"

"You just moved in, you couldn't have filled up all of the closet and drawer space already," he smirks.

"No, I haven't."

"Mom said she helped you decorate the house?"

"Yeah, your mom and Alice both helped me. I guess we'll have more shopping to do after tomorrow."

"Why?" he asks curiously.

"Because we're gonna try to find out the sex of the baby."

Edward spins around, staring at me. "Ok, I know I got D's in math, but it hasn't been 20 weeks since we first had sex."

"What?"

"You said… _before_… you were 20 weeks pregnant when you found out the sex," he explains.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm in my seventeenth week, but the ultrasound technology is continuously improving, and doctors can determine the sex earlier than in the past."

"It hasn't been 17 weeks either though. You don't think I was counting every week I was locked up away from you?" I think that's a rhetorical question.

"Pregnancy timelines start counting with week three, so you're right, it hasn't been that long."

"That's… weird," he replies. I shrug. He's right — it is weird.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" I ask once he's put everything away.

"I was kinda wanting to get naked."

I roll my eyes. "Not tonight," I whisper. "Tomorrow is… well, even though the timing is different, my brain is stuck on the fact that everything went to hell the day I found out the sex of the baby. I'd just really, really like for you to hold me."

Edward smiles, kissing me tenderly. "Whatever you need, baby." He takes my hand and leads me into the living room.

"Anything you want to watch?" I ask. "I never unpacked my DVDs in Aberdeen, but I put them in the cabinet after I moved in here."

Edward glances at me, looking surprisingly shy. "Do you have any of the Christmas classics? Like _Rudolph_ or _Charlie Brown_ or something?"

"You want to watch Christmas movies?"

He shrugs. "I missed Christmas being in prison."

"I don't think I have anything like that, but I'll check on what I do have." A couple of minutes later, I hold up my findings for him. "Ok, so we have _Home Alone_, _Christmas Vacation_ and _Elf_. Any of those strike you?"

"You have _Christmas Vacation_?" he asks, sounding shocked.

"Um, it was Jake's."

"You don't have _A Nightmare Before Christmas_?" I shake my head. "How about _Elf_ then," he suggests.

After I put the DVD in the player, I curl up on the couch next to Edward, snuggling into his side.

"How come you don't have a Christmas tree?" he asks suddenly while the previews play. "Or any decorations?"

I shrug. "I only moved in about three weeks ago, and it took a few days to get everything unpacked and put away. By then, we'd heard about the break in your case and I guess I had other priorities."

"We need to have one next year. For the baby."

"Of course, for the baby," I reply with a knowing smile, patting his arm. As I settle into his arms, Leo jumps up onto the couch to join us, settling into Edward's lap.

While we watch the movie, Edward's left hand is busy petting the cat while his right hand strokes my hair, strokes my arm. He leans over every few minutes to place a tender kiss on my temple or my cheek.

When the movie winds down, Leo jumps off the couch and Edward takes advantage by lifting me until I'm sitting across his lap, hugging me close to him. "Did you want to watch another movie?" he asks. "I'll even sit through a chick flick if you want."

"I think I just want to go to bed and cuddle with you."

Edward gives me a small smile, kissing me gently. "It's going to be ok, Bella. Nothing bad is going to happen tomorrow."

"Logically I know that, but… I just don't want to lose you," I whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby. I promise."

I close my eyes, hugging him tightly. Suddenly, Edward stands up, carrying me bridal style into the bedroom.

"Put me down," I yell, slapping at his arm.

Edward just laughs. "Aren't I supposed to carry you over the threshold?"

"That's for on your wedding night."

He finally sets me on my feet again once we reach the bedroom, reaching up to cradle my face in his hands. "It's our first night officially living together, the first night of the rest of our lives."

Before I can reply, he's kissing me tenderly. I pull back, stopping him before he can convince me that I want to do more than cuddle with him — it really won't take much. "Let's get ready for bed," I whisper.

* * *

**A/N: **What's that? Bella said NO to him? Hehe, poor boy isn't used to that.

Coming on Monday: Bella and Edward try to learn the sex of their baby. Would you like to see a mini-Edward, or Daddyward to a baby girl?


	27. January 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

I used the reviews as an informal poll. Of those who mentioned the baby's sex, there are 18 votes for a girl, 10 votes for a boy, and 6 votes for either or boy/girl twins!

* * *

_Wednesday, January 2, 2013_

The loud buzzing of my alarm clock startles me from a particularly sexy dream. I reach over to turn it off, then reluctantly put my feet on the floor. The blanket falls a little as I climb out of bed, and I shake my head at Edward's very naked body lying in the middle of my bed. At least part of him is awake.

After my shower, I walk back into the bedroom, startled to see Edward lying on his back, his arms crossed behind his head and his eyes following me. The blanket only barely covers his lower half.

"You can stay in bed," I tell him. "I can take the bus to work."

"Nah, that's ok — I'll drive you. I need to know where you work so I can pick you up this afternoon."

I watch his body in fascination as he sits up, scooting to the edge of the bed. I know he sees me blatantly ogling him as he walks to the bathroom.

"You're shameless," he says with a smirk.

"_Me?_ Welcome to the second trimester, Edward. When a woman's hormones demand sex on a regular basis."

I want to laugh at the expression on his face. "Now is good for me, how about you?" he asks with a leering grin.

"I just took a shower!"

"You should've waited for me — your shower is huge."

"Even with you driving me, we probably don't have time for that," I protest. "Go on, get ready!"

I feed Leo and quickly scramble some eggs for our breakfasts while Edward is in the shower. His offer was far, far too tempting, but I do have an appointment at the veterinary hospital at 8am, so we have to get going.

When we pull up in front of the hospital, I remove the house key from my keychain, handing it to Edward. "You can get a copy of this made," I tell him. He beams at me, kissing me until I'm ready to jump him in the car.

"So, my doctor's appointment is at four o'clock. It'll take us about 15 minutes to get over there."

"I'll be here."

"Ok," I smile. "What are you planning to do today?"

"Grocery shopping. You have no food."

"Well, that's because I could only buy what I could carry."

"No more, baby," he says, shaking his head.

"Do you have money for groceries?" He nods. "Ok, I'll see you this afternoon, all right?" I kiss him quickly then open the car door, waving to Edward as he pulls away.

It's a busy day at work — they really did need to hire a fourth vet. I barely have time for a quick lunch in the strip mall next door. I try to call Alice while I'm having lunch, but the call goes to voicemail. I don't want to let her know what's going on that way, so I don't leave a message or send her a text.

I also never get a chance to talk to Jasper to let him know the update on Edward. Our appointment times don't line up at all to cross paths in the lobby, and after lunch, he is busy in surgery when a woman brings in her cat's entire litter of five kittens to be spayed and neutered.

The closer it gets to four, the more anxious I get. The weather is fine today; it's nothing like that day three years ago, but my brain just refuses to accept that everything will be ok.

I walk into the lobby about 20 minutes before my appointment, startled to see Edward standing there chatting with one of the desk assistants. He looks up and smiles when he sees me. God, he looks hot in leather.

"Are you ready to go?" he asks, planting a possessive kiss on my lips.

"No."

"It'll be fine, baby," he whispers, hugging me to his side and leading me to the door.

"See you tomorrow, Emily," I call as we step outside. Edward holds my hand as we walk to his Volvo, then opens the car door for me. I look up at him questioningly.

"I can be a gentleman," he grumbles.

Arriving at the medical center, I cling to Edward's hand as I step up the desk to give the receptionist my name. He leads me to a padded bench where he can sit right next to me, wrapping his arm around me and rubbing up and down my arm as I wait.

I gaze up at him lovingly, unable to put into words exactly how I feel right now.

"What is it?" he finally asks.

I shrug. "I was just… remembering. I was here with Jacob three years ago and he sat there fiddling with his phone the entire time." He doesn't reply, just kisses me softly.

"Isabella Black?" the nurse calls.

I stand up, holding tightly to Edward's hand as we follow the nurse back to the examining room. Edward has to switch sides so she can take my blood pressure on my left arm. Then he does his best to distract me while she takes a small vial of blood.

"The doctor will be in shortly," she says as she leaves the room.

"Are you nervous?" I ask him.

He nods shyly. "We're really gonna see our baby?"

"Yep. We can get pictures, too."

"_Black_ is his last name, right?" I'm momentarily startled by the question before nodding.

"My maiden name was Swan," I tell him.

"Hey, Bella," Dr. Senna calls as she enters the room. "Oh!" she exclaims, shocked when she notices Edward beside me. "You're the baby's father, I presume?"

He nods, shaking her hand. "I'm Edward."

"I'm glad you could make it today," she says genuinely. Edward cocks his head to the side and I imagine he's trying to figure out if she knows his story. I don't _think_ she does, since she didn't react when I introduced his mom as Esme Cullen.

Dr. Senna lifts my sweater, holding a small probe to my stomach. Immediately we hear the sound of the baby's heartbeat through the fetal Doppler. "Very strong," she notes.

I watch the look on Edward's face as he hears his baby's heartbeat for the first time. "It's so fast," he says in awe.

"Yes, that's perfectly normal. Are you feeling any movement yet, Bella?"

"Not yet," I reply.

She nods. "Soon, I think. It's fine if you don't feel anything yet."

Once she spreads the gel on my abdomen, we both stare fascinated at the screen when the images flicker to life. Dr. Senna points out all of the baby's features to us, measuring the baby and noting the figures in my chart.

"All good," she says. "The development is right on track. Would you like to know the sex?"

I look up at Edward before nodding.

"All right. We've got a pretty good frontal view here. I'd say it's definite that you're having a little girl."

I close my eyes, absorbing the news. I never would've said anything, but I had been hoping for a girl — less chance that I'd look at this baby as a replacement for the one that I lost.

"She's not dating until she's 30," Edward says, still staring at the screen. Dr. Senna and I both laugh at him, but his protectiveness brings tears to my eyes.

"Can we tell the due date?" I ask.

"Middle of June, perhaps the fifteenth," she says. "Of course, very few babies are born on their exact due date. Do you have any other questions?" I shake my head and Dr. Senna prints out a few photos from the ultrasound for us to keep.

"Edward? Since you haven't been here before, do you have anything you'd like to ask?"

I look up at him and can almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Um…"

"Go ahead," she encourages. "No question is a stupid question."

He clears his throat. "Um, my mom… she… she died right after giving birth."

Dr. Senna gasps. "I am so sorry."

"She had preeclampsia," I explain.

"Ah, I see."

"What is that, exactly?" Edward asks.

"Preeclampsia is high blood pressure that develops in the second half of a pregnancy. You probably noticed the nurse checked Bella's blood pressure today?" He nods. "She isn't showing any signs of problems there, though she's not at 20 weeks yet."

"How… how common is it?"

"About five to eight percent of pregnancies. Bella doesn't have any of the risk factors though — she's not over 40, she's not obese, she doesn't smoke, she's not having twins — so her chances would be quite a bit lower than that. We'll continue to monitor her blood pressure on each visit, but it's not something I'd be overly concerned about."

"Ok," he nods, relaxing somewhat.

"Any other questions?"

He glances over at me and I roll my eyes. I know exactly where his mind is.

"Um, so…" He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. "Um… is it really ok to keep having sex?"

Dr. Senna smiles at him. "A lot of dads ask that question," she begins. "And yes, it's perfectly fine. If Bella is uncomfortable or in any pain, she will tell you."

"Yeah?" he asks, sounding hopeful.

"After about four months, it's not recommended to have sex in the missionary position. In fact, Bella really shouldn't lie on her back at all after that because of the pressure the growing baby will put on the blood vessels in her abdomen. So you'll need to be a little more creative with positions."

"I can be creative," he replies brightly. I reach over and smack him.

Dr. Senna laughs. "Just find whatever works for you, whatever Bella is comfortable with."

He nods, the relief clear on his face. Wait until I tell him about the ban on sex _after_ giving birth.

"It was nice to meet you, Edward," the doctor says. "Bella is doing fine, so don't worry, ok? She needs you to be strong for her."

He nods, seeming to take her words seriously.

Edward hovers over me while I make another appointment for the beginning of next month, until I send him to fetch me a bottle of water from the vending machine outside. Dr. Senna drops off my chart with the receptionist and smiles at me. "He's a keeper," she says. "Adorable." She winks at me.

"Um, thanks," I reply shyly. His hair is still too long, but with his tattoos covered up, Edward does look perfectly respectable, beyond sexy in that black leather jacket of his. To people who don't know him, he's not Edward Cullen the ex-con, just a hot young guy with a bigger heart than I ever gave him credit for.

* * *

I insist on going straight home after my appointment. I just want to wrap the two of us up in a bubble and never come out.

Once we're home, we head into the living room, curling up together on the couch. "What do you think, Edward?" I ask, looking up at him.

"We're having a little girl thanks to my super sperm, and I get to have sex with you in creative positions — what's not to love?"

I reach over to smack him, but he grabs my hand, kissing each of my knuckles in turn. "You know I'm not one to think about the future. I never imagined being a dad one day, but now that it's happening… is it weird to already love some tiny thing inside your stomach?"

"It's not weird at all," I reply, feeling myself start to tear up. "Are you sure you're ok with giving up being a bachelor for changing diapers?"

I want to laugh when Edward wrinkles his nose. "You're not really gonna make me change diapers, are you? How about if I feed the baby?"

"Oh, I am most definitely making you do the dirty work, too."

"What about you, Bella?" he whispers. "You were so insistent that we use condoms, so I know you didn't want this."

"No," I answer softly, "I didn't want a baby with someone I hardly knew, but… I did want to try for another baby one day. It's sooner than I expected, but from almost the minute I found out, I've loved the baby and I _am_ happy about the pregnancy."

"I know you'll be a great mom," he whispers, kissing me gently. "I have no idea how to be a good dad."

"Of course you do! Maybe you didn't have the best experience as a young child, but you had Carlisle from the time you were 11, and I know he loves you. He's hard on you because he wants you to be the best man that you can be, but he loves you."

"I know… he believed in my innocence when a lot of people wouldn't have."

Edward begins tugging at my arm, pulling me until I'm in his favorite position on his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him softly. "Is it too soon to try to be creative?" he asks, his hands already wandering beneath my sweater.

"You have a one-track mind."

He shrugs. "Guilty."

I roll my eyes, but I want him, too. I lean closer, taking Edward's lower lip between my own. We're just progressing to a full-on make-out session when the doorbell rings. "Ignore it," he whispers. "Whoever it is will go away." He sticks his tongue in my mouth before I can reply.

A minute later, the doorbell chimes again. "I should probably get that," I mumble between kisses. Edward groans but releases his hold on me so that I can stand up. I laugh as he adjusts his hard-on in his jeans.

Throwing open the front door, I'm startled to see Alice and Jasper standing there. "Bella," Alice squeals, stepping inside and hugging me tightly.

"Hey, Alice. What are you guys doing here?"

"We knew you wouldn't want to go out and celebrate tonight, so we brought the celebration to you," she replies, urging Jasper inside. "We brought takeout from Bella Italia," she adds.

Jasper carries the bags of food into the kitchen, Alice and I trailing behind him. As he sets the bags on the table, Edward appears in the doorway, looking more out of place than I've ever seen him. I nod at him and he steps into the room.

"Oh!" Alice exclaims, noticing him for the first time. "You're not alone." I watch the way her eyes take Edward in, from his messy hair — thanks to my hands — to his feet.

"Um, Alice, Jasper, this is Edward Cullen. Edward, these are my best friends, Alice and Jasper Whitlock."

"Hey," he greets them, shaking Jasper's offered hand.

"We didn't know you'd be here, but there should be plenty of food," Jasper says. "They always give you even larger portions when you get the food to-go."

"Sit down, Edward," I direct. He glances at me and I smile at him. I want him to feel at home with my friends.

While I get the drinks, Jasper tears open the bags of food. "So, we have calamari as an appetizer, and two of the house salads — they're easily big enough for two. For the entrees, we have mushroom ravioli for Little Mama here, Alice's lasagna, and I got spaghetti and meatballs. Did you want to take some of each and try them all?" he asks Edward.

"Um, sure, thanks." He takes one of the salads, splitting it into two of the bowls that I got out of the cabinet.

"Bella Italia is one of my favorite restaurants," I explain to Edward. "It's pretty close to the hospital, so I used to go there for lunch on slow days. We lived on the other side of Lake Washington, so Jake and I didn't get there for dinner very often."

"The calamari is good," he says, popping another piece into his mouth.

"So, Edward," Alice begins, "How does it feel to be free?"

"Amazing," he says with a smile. "I'm not sure it's really sunk in yet that after more than nine months it's all over."

"What are you planning to do now?" Jasper asks.

Edward shrugs. "Get a job, I guess."

"Where did you work… you know, before?"

"Um, I was a cook at an Italian restaurant downtown," he says.

"Do you think you can get your old job back, Edward?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No, there's nothing available. My buddy whose parents own the place came out with us for a while on Monday night."

"Oh! Bella Italia is looking to hire a cook," Jasper says excitedly. "I saw an ad posted there when I picked up the food."

"That would be perfect, Edward!" I exclaim.

"Let me try their food first," he says with a wink. After sampling all three of the entrees, Edward gives them a thumbs up. "I'll stop by tomorrow and apply," he decides.

"Have you thought about going to culinary school?" I ask him.

"Do you really think I could do that?" he asks shyly.

"Of course you could! It might be too late for this semester, but you could start in the Fall."

"But we'll be… _parents_ by Fall."

"Oh my God," Alice squeals, "I can't believe I forgot the most pressing question! Boy or girl?"

I nod at Edward, letting him answer. "Girl," he says with a huge grin. "And I hope she looks just like Bella."

"Awww… that's so sweet," Alice says. "I imagine you don't have a theme in mind for the nursery yet. You still need furniture too, right?" I nod. "Now that you know it's a girl, you could go with white painted wood or something like that."

"White?" Edward repeats, wrinkling his nose. "Shouldn't we get something less girly in case our future kids are boys?"

All three of us turn and stare at him. I don't think he even realizes what he said. I can see the exact moment the light bulb goes off. "Um, if we have any more kids, that is," he adds shyly. He looks so adorable that I can't resist leaning over to kiss him.

When we've finished our meals, I clear the table, then watch as Jasper reaches into the bag one more time, pulling out three desserts. "Ok, we have tiramisu, chocolate cake and cheesecake, who wants what?"

"I call the chocolate cake!" I shout. The piece is probably large enough to feed all four of us. Again, we each give some of our dessert to Edward so he can try all three.

"These are all good," he declares. "I've never really made desserts though."

"Good for me," I tell him. "If you could bake, I'd be in big trouble."

Once we all finish our desserts, we retire to the living room. I see Alice raise an eyebrow when Edward pulls me to sit on his lap in the chair, while Alice and Jasper take the couch. Leo noses around their feet, looking for attention.

"So, Edward," Alice begins, "Where were you? I talked to Bella on Monday afternoon and she hadn't heard from you since Thursday."

"Um… I was just coming to terms with everything. I know it was shitty of me not to call."

"You don't hurt my best girl, got it?" she says sternly.

"I got it," he replies with a sheepish grin.

"Are you doing ok, Bella?" Alice asks. "I mean with… today."

"I'm all right," I nod. "There was no way I could go out to celebrate tonight, but I'm not having a panic attack or anything. And if I do… well, Edward has seen a few of them."

"Not an experience I want to relive," he says, hugging me to him.

"Do you guys want to watch a movie?" Alice asks, reaching for the remote control to turn on the TV. "I can't remember the last movie we saw that wasn't made by Disney."

"Is there a football game on TV for you to watch?" I ask Edward.

"Nah," he says, shaking his head. "The playoffs start Saturday. Emmett's team is playing the Vikings. I think Mom and Dad are planning a big viewing party."

"Emmett Cullen is your brother?" Jasper asks, seemingly in awe. Edward nods in response.

"Are you guys close?" Alice asks.

Edward shrugs. "Not really. Emmett went away to college in Florida and I… went to prison."

Hearing something in his voice that makes me believe Edward feels somehow inferior to his brother, I kiss his cheek, ruffling his hair. "You're a different person now, Edward," I tell him quietly.

Alice bounds off the couch, rifling through my DVD cabinet. "Any ideas?"

"Maybe something from three or four years ago?" Edward asks shyly. I'm curious about his request for a minute, but then realize he spent three years in prison and probably missed all of the movies that came out during that time period.

"Let's see," Alice says, looking through the titles. "_The Dark Knight_? I can't remember what year that came out, but I know the sequel was last summer so it must've been a few years back."

"2009," I answer quietly. "Um, I bought the DVD for Jake that last Christmas."

"I haven't seen that," Edward confirms. "Is it ok with you, baby? Or…"

"It's all right," I reply, nodding.

When the movie is over, Alice and Jasper need to get home to relieve their babysitter, so I reluctantly climb off of Edward's lap to see them to the door.

"Thanks for coming, you guys," I say, hugging Alice tightly. "I'll call you tomorrow, ok?"

"He's even hotter in person," she whispers so low that Jasper can't hear. Alice winks at me, then waves as she and Jasper walk out to their car.

I close the door and turn around, jumping when I see Edward stalking toward me. "I love it when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

"Like you're a predator and I'm your prey."

Grinning, he cages me in against the door with his hands, kissing me until I'm ready to rip his clothes off. "I believe we were interrupted earlier," he smirks.

"Can I wash my makeup off and join you in bed?"

"Anything that ends with joining me in bed is cool," he says with a wink. We walk hand in hand to the bedroom and out of habit, I start digging around in the drawer for pajamas. "You're not going to need those," he warns, wrapping his arms around me from behind and sucking on my neck.

I just feel… weird about walking around naked, so I return to the bedroom in my bra and panties. Edward chuckles, shaking his head when he sees me. "I'm gonna cure you of that prudishness," he promises.

I roll my eyes, taking a moment to stare at his naked body lounging on my bed. How did I ever get so lucky?

"See something you like?" he asks with a smirk.

"Yes," I answer honestly. "You're beautiful, Edward."

"So are you," he replies, holding his hand out to me. I take his hand, crawling onto the bed. In no time, I am flat on my back underneath Edward. "I love you," he whispers before crashing his lips to mine.

We kiss until I'm breathless and aching for him. I don't even notice when Edward removes my remaining clothes. "How do you want me, baby?"

"What?"

"Don't tell me you have no fantasies," he says in a husky voice, kissing me deeply.

"Um… I… you've been so careful with me. I'm not breakable. You can let go. Like that time on the kitchen counter." God, I must be bright red.

"Are you saying you want me to fuck you?"

"Please," I moan.

"With pleasure," Edward replies with a huge grin. I have no idea what he's doing when he stands up, but then he grabs my ankles to pull me toward the end of the bed. "Your bed is the perfect height," he says, pulling my legs up over his arms.

I cry out as he's buried inside me with one thrust. Holding tight to my hips, he begins to move, alternating between long deep thrusts and faster thrusts that make our skin slap together. When he lifts my legs up over his shoulders, I begin moaning and mumbling curses. I force my eyes to remain open so that I can watch Edward in his element, the way his muscles move as he works me over.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" I manage to squeak out a yes before he throws both legs over one shoulder, bending forward to play with my breasts. When my orgasm hits, I scream out his name, feeling myself clench repeatedly around his cock.

Edward groans loudly, speeding up his thrusts even more before he freezes, his face contorted in pleasure. He chuckles as he slowly lets my legs down, grabbing my hips to help me scoot up the bed. Still breathing heavily, he crawls up beside me and pulls me onto his chest.

"Thank you," I say, still catching my breath.

He laughs loudly. "For fucking you senseless?"

"Well, that too," I admit.

"But I mean for everything. You gave me a reason to live again, Edward," I tell him, lifting my head up so that I can look him in the eye. "If you hadn't crashed into my life, I'd still be in Aberdeen, hiding from the world."

"I accept payment in blowjobs, you know," he says with a wink.

I can't hold back my smile, though I shake my head at him. "I love you, Edward. Exactly the way you are. Please don't ever change for me."

He traces my lips with one finger of the hand that isn't wrapped around me, smiling back at me softly. "I know I need to grow up — at least a little bit. I want to be worthy of you. And I want…" He pauses, swallowing thickly. "I want our baby — our daughter — to be proud to have me as her father. I'll do right by both of you, I swear."

"I know you will. I believe in you." I punctuate my statement by kissing those amazing lips, letting him know exactly how much I love him. "I need to go clean up," I whisper.

"Mmmm… we could do that together. I want to test out your shower."

"You never stop, do you?"

"I'll never stop wanting you," he vows.

* * *

**A/N: **Yay, it's a girl! And Edward has a job possibility, which should make his dad happy.

How's he doing in his new role as boyfriend and dad-to-be?

The plan was always to go back to once a week updates once Edward was out of prison. How much will you guys kill me if I follow through with that?


	28. January 3

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

The faster I update, the faster this is over... :(

* * *

_Thursday, January 3, 2013_

After our late night last night, the buzzing of the alarm comes much too early. I reluctantly crawl out of Edward's arms, heading to the bathroom to start the day. I'm just pouring myself a bowl of cereal when he walks into the kitchen, looking adorably rumpled in only a pair of boxers.

"You really don't have to drive me to work every day if you'd rather sleep."

"I'm not letting you take the bus when I'm around," he insists. Edward pours his own bowl and sits down at the table to join me. I notice he bought his own kind of sugary cereal when he went grocery shopping yesterday. Guess he doesn't like my healthy, low-fat, high-fiber variety.

"Were you still planning on stopping by Bella Italia today to see about the job?" I ask. He nods. "I think they open at 11 o'clock. You can use my computer this morning if you want to find a resume-building website."

"A resume?" he asks, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah, you know," I tease, "One of those things where you can brag about your skills and experience in the kitchen?"

"I never got a job with a resume before," he muses. "But I'll take a look."

I rinse out our empty bowls and put them into the dishwasher while Edward throws some clothes on. I really hope things go well for him at Bella Italia today. It would be awesome if he got a job so close to where I work, even though we'll never have the same hours.

"You might want to shave before you go to the restaurant," I tell him while he drives me to work. Edward rolls his eyes at me. "I'm _serious_! It doesn't hurt to make a good impression."

"Trust me," he replies with a wink. "I got this." Now it's _my_ turn to roll my eyes.

"Do you know your schedule?" he asks when he pulls up in front of the veterinary hospital. "Can I come pick you up for lunch?"

"Sure, but it'll have to be a late lunch. I don't think I'm free until one o'clock today."

"Cool," he replies, "That'll give me plenty of time at the restaurant." He kisses me goodbye as I get out of the car to start my day.

* * *

My 12:30 appointment finishes early, so I take a chance on calling Alice before Edward shows up.

"_Bella!_" she yells so loudly that I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

"Hey, Alice," I chuckle.

"_Oh my fucking God, that man is hot, you lucky bitch!_"

"Edward is mine; you've got your own man." So I'm a little possessive.

"_What on earth happened?_" she asks. "_When we had lunch on Monday, you hadn't heard from Edward since he left you in the courtroom._"

"What happened is he showed up at my door drunk about two o'clock in the morning on New Year's Day," I reply. "Didn't say a word, just came inside and started kissing me like nothing had ever happened."

"_So you kneed him in the balls, right?"_

"Um…"

_"Bella! Tell me you did not have sex with him._"

"Well…" I reply sheepishly. "Didn't you just get through telling me how hot he is? Anyway, we had a long talk the next day and things are great. He told me he loves me, Alice. He wants to be with me and be a father to our baby."

"_That is so awesome. He seemed really, really into you last night. Oh, speaking of the baby, you're gonna let me do the nursery right?"_

"Yeah, of course you can." I remember how much Alice wanted to decorate the nursery for the baby I lost; it's a second chance for her, too.

"_Are you free at noon tomorrow? We can have lunch and figure out when we can get together and shop for baby things._"

"That sounds great," I tell her. "Sorry to cut this short, but I probably need to get out front. Edward was planning to stop by around one to take me to lunch and let me know how things went at Bella Italia this morning."

"_Oh, I hope he gets the job!_"

"Me too! See you tomorrow, Alice."

By the time I get out to our reception area, I can see Edward exiting his car in the parking lot. I can't resist ogling him as he walks toward the door. He's just such a striking figure, tall and lean. Besides his fuckhot leather jacket, he's clean shaven and wearing sunglasses that make him look like a movie star.

"Hey, baby," he smiles as soon as he opens the door and sees me standing there. "I got the job!" Before I know it, he's picking me up and spinning me around. I can't help laughing; his good mood is contagious. Emily behind the desk chuckles at his antics as well.

Edward and I walk hand in hand across the street to a nearby cafe and place our orders at the counter, then take our seats.

"So tell me how it went," I prompt him.

"Well, I saw the ad posted in the window when I walked in, just like Jasper said," he begins. "They were looking for a line cook — the job I had before I was convicted, remember? So I told them I wanted to see the owner about the job."

"Did they recognize you?" I ask curiously.

"Yeah, they did. The owner is an older guy originally from Italy. He was kissing my cheeks and telling me how wonderful it was that I was free," he laughs. "He was saying how much he hated to see an injustice and always tried to make things right if he could. Basically he said if I could cook, the job was mine.

"I gave him my resume to look over while he let me into the kitchen to cook something for him and the Executive Chef to try. It was still early so they weren't very crowded."

"What did you make?"

"I made a stuffed chicken breast with a tomato cream sauce. Everybody loved it and he hired me on the spot," he says with a huge grin. "I start work on Monday. I've got a few recipes to practice before then."

"Edward, that's great," I reply, reaching across the table to take his hands in mine. I think I'm gonna like living with a chef, even if he doesn't have a fancy degree. "I knew you could do it. I knew you were a great cook."

"It feels good to be employed again," he says quietly. "I don't want to just be mooching off of you."

"It's not mooching."

"Yes, it _is_. I've spent a lot of your money already. And I need to contribute something toward the household expenses."

I can see that this means a lot to him, so I just smile and nod. Once the server drops off our food, we eat hurriedly since I have to get back to work.

"Oh," I remember, swallowing quickly, "Have you talked to your mom today?"

"No, I haven't," he answers. "I was busy all morning working on my resume. Like I remember the dates I worked at each restaurant? I spent most of high school drunk or stoned. I almost called Mom to see if she remembered," he adds sheepishly.

"You spent…" I trail off, shaking my head.

Edward grins at me, chuckling. "You probably spent high school on the Honor Roll and in tons of extracurricular activities, right?"

"Um… I may have been president of the Science Club."

"Ha!" he laughs. "I knew it." He smiles, shaking his head, but then his smile fades. "What do you see in me, baby?"

My eyes widen and I stare at him for a moment before answering. "I see… a man who's passionate, full of life, fun-loving, sexy… I know we don't have much in common, but I think we balance each other out somehow. You make me want to be better."

"You forgot devastatingly handsome," he replies with a smirk. "And a sex god."

"Can't forget those," I deadpan, rolling my eyes. Clearly, Edward is done with the serious part of this conversation.

"Anyway, you should call your mom this afternoon and tell her about your new job! And I'm sure she'd love to know that she's going to have a granddaughter," I add. "I need to call my dad, too."

"I'm surprised she hasn't already bought everything for the baby," he chuckles. "She's so excited for her first grandchild."

"Well, we were waiting to find out the sex first before buying anything."

"I'll call her," he promises as he stands up to dump our empty trays of food. He walks me back to the veterinary hospital before saying goodbye.

"Thank you for believing in me," Edward whispers before giving me a toe-curling goodbye kiss.

* * *

Stuffed from the yummy beef tenderloin that Edward cooked for dinner, I'm curled up with him on the couch watching Chopped reruns. His arm is around me, stroking gently along my shoulder.

"You know I probably won't be able to make you dinner all the time once I start my job," Edward says. "I'll have to work through the dinner rush."

"We're not gonna have the most compatible hours, are we," I muse.

"I think I'll mainly be working four long days, so we'll have plenty of time together."

"I'll miss your cooking though," I chuckle.

"You'll still have me when you go to bed every night," he replies, beginning to kiss along my ear.

"Well, that's a good thing." Just the feel of his lips on me is starting to turn me on.

"Mmmm… a very good thing," he whispers. I feel his hand on my cheek, gently turning me to face him, before his lips are on mine. As we kiss, Edward's hand wanders underneath my sweater and he brushes his fingertips lightly across my nipples through my bra. It's not long before he's pulling me onto his lap, thrusting up against me.

And then I hear my phone ringing.

"Fuck!" Edward curses, echoing my thoughts. "What is it with getting interrupted when I'm trying to seduce you on the couch? Don't answer it."

"It might be Dad. He'll get worried if I don't answer," I tell him, climbing off of his lap to retrieve my phone from the side table. I'd tried to call my dad while Edward was making dinner, but ended up having to leave him a voicemail. I check the caller ID before answering and it's definitely Charlie.

"Hi, Dad," I say, sitting on the couch next to my pouting man.

"_Hey, Bells, I got your message. What's up?_"

"Uh, a couple things actually," I stall. I figure letting him know he's going to have a granddaughter will put him in a good mood before he learns that Edward is back in my life, so I decide to start there.

"At the ultrasound yesterday, I found out I'm having a girl."

Charlie is quiet for a few moments before he speaks. "_A baby girl? Really?_"

"Yeah," I smile even though he can't see me. "My doctor was pretty sure."

"_Do you think she'll still want to go fishing with her old grandpa?_"

"Of course she will! I'm sure she'll love spending time with you. She's going to be so spoiled," I remark.

"_That's great news, Bells. So what's the other thing?_"

I clear my throat. "Um, well, you know Edward's conviction was overturned last week."

"_Yeah…_" Fuck, he sounds apprehensive.

"We're together, Dad. He wants to be with me and our daughter. And he's excited to be a father." I'm startled when Edward brushes my hair out of the way and begins kissing my neck. "Please try to be happy for me?"

My dad sighs heavily as I attempt to shove Edward away. "_Bells, are you sure about this? He's still an ex-con._"

"I know, Dad. But he's really trying. He got a job today at Bella Italia, the Italian place by the animal hospital." Not giving up, Edward begins pushing my sweater up until it's above my breasts. He pulls my bra cup down and begins teasing one finger lightly over my nipple until it hardens.

"_I just don't want to see you get hurt,_" Dad insists.

"I know," I say again. I turn to glare at Edward, who only smirks at me, taking my nipple in his mouth while he looks me in the eye. "But I'm an adult, and you can't protect me from everything. This is what I want, Dad. I love him, and he loves me too."

"_I just want to see you happy, sweetheart._"

"I _am_ happy." I try to push Edward away, but he's too strong for me, easing me down until I'm lying on my back on the couch. "Um, are you free on Saturday?" I ask my dad. "The Cullens are having a party for Emmett's playoff game. It would be a chance for you to meet Edward."

Edward's eyes widen as he stares at me, my breasts temporarily forgotten. Maybe I should've discussed this with him before inviting Charlie to the party, but they do need to meet sooner rather than later.

"_I'm sorry, Bells. I'm working this weekend._"

"Ok, well, if his team wins, there will be a party next week, too, so maybe you can make that one?"

Smirking at me, Edward begins unbuttoning my pants and tugging the zipper down. I glare at him again, but he's undeterred.

"_If the Packers win this weekend, I'll try to arrange my schedule. I do want to meet this Edward._"

"All right," I reply, my breath hitching when Edward slides two fingers into my underwear. "Next week maybe," I barely manage to squeak out.

"_You take care of yourself, Bells. I'll see you soon._"

"Bye, Dad," I hang up quickly then slap Edward on the back of the head. "Trying to have sex with me while I'm talking to my dad? Seriously?" I ask, annoyed.

"I wasn't trying to have sex — just seduce you for later," he replies with a smirk.

"Well, just for that, I'm not having sex with you tonight."

Edward's eyes widen again and his mouth drops open as he tries to figure out whether or not I'm bluffing. While he is immobilized, I use the opportunity to climb off the couch, tug my sweater down and head to the bedroom to put on my pajamas.

I quickly realize that Edward is following me. By the time I reach the bedroom, he's caught up with me, throwing his arms around my waist from behind.

"As if you can outrun me," he growls before grabbing my top and yanking it over my head. I try to pull away when he lets me go briefly, but he's faster, pulling me back into his chest with one hand and unhooking my bra with the other. "As if you can fight me off."

Once my bra is on the floor, his free hand moves down to my pants, tugging them and my underwear down as best he can. Trapped in the legs of my pants, I lose my balance as I try to get away, falling forward onto the bed and then rolling over. Edward finishes removing my clothes before climbing onto the bed, hovering over where I lie flat on my back.

"Caught ya," he grins. Before I can protest, he's kissing me, his lips moving with purpose against mine while his legs straddle my hips. My need for Edward is growing by the second, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of winning.

His soft lips leave mine only long enough for him to pull his t-shirt over his head. One hand kneads my breast while the other is working at the button fly on his jeans. He's forced to roll off of me slightly to tug his pants down. I use the opportunity to sit up and scramble to my knees, crawling on my hands and knees toward the end of the bed. My plan backfires when Edward's long arms enable him to reach out and grab my ankles. He tugs me back toward him until my pussy in positioned over his mouth.

"Edward—"

My protest is interrupted by the touch of his amazing tongue right where I am aching for him. As he goes to work on me, my eyes close and my head sags, and I allow myself to just enjoy his talents. I moan out my pleasure, and when I open my eyes again, I see Edward's very hard cock in my field of vision.

I've never done this position before, but his cock looks oh so tempting — so what the hell. I move my left arm until it's on the other side of his hips and bend down, taking just tip the into my mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he whimpers before replacing his tongue on my slit.

I try to brace myself on one hand so that I can grab the base of his cock with the other, pumping it slowly as I take him in my mouth again. I still don't think I'm very good at blowjobs, but from the obvious sounds of pleasure that Edward is making, I must be doing something right. I find that it's really hard to concentrate on what I'm doing when his tongue is making me feel so good.

My rhythm falters a bit as I start getting very close. "I know you're close, baby," he whispers. He must be reading my mind. Edward inserts what must be at least two if not three fingers inside me, curling them as he pulls them out, and I come hard.

"Oh my God," I yelp, his cock falling out of my mouth. I try my best to at least keep up the motion with my hand around him. After a few more seconds, I'm calm enough to take him in my mouth again.

Less than 30 seconds later I feel Edward tapping me on the arm. "I'm gonna come, baby," he warns. I have never, ever swallowed, so I quickly pull my mouth off of him, pumping him with my hand until he comes in several long spurts over both of us.

I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling in a daze. Who knew I'd enjoy a 69 so much?

"We need to clean up," he chuckles.

"Mmmm… I can't move yet."

Edward chuckles again, removing his pants the rest of the way and shifting until we're lying side by side, facing the same direction once again. He tugs me onto my side and brushes my face tenderly with one finger. "Can I kiss you?" he whispers.

"Uhhhh…"

"Taste yourself," he whispers, kissing me lightly. It's… strange but not the worst thing ever. When I don't complain, he kisses me again, a little more firmly. As usual, Edward's hand starts to wander, stroking up and down my back from my shoulders to my ass.

"Can you move yet?" he asks with a grin. I nod and he sits up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He then helps me up, leading me by the hand into the bathroom.

I assume we're headed for the shower, but instead he stops in front of the vanity, turning us until we're facing the mirror over the double sinks.

"Do you have a hair thingie?" he asks.

"A hair _thingie_?"

"I don't know what it's called," he chuckles. I nod toward the drawer and he opens it, pulling out a hair clip that I use sometimes to put my hair up. Moving behind me, Edward pulls my hair into a ponytail, twisting it around up to my head and securing it with the clip.

Again I expect us to move to the shower, but instead his arms come around me to play with my breasts. "Look up, Bella," he whispers, pushing my chin up until I'm looking straight at our reflection in the mirror. "Do you see how beautiful you are? How sexy? Do you see what I see?"

"I… no."

"You _are_, baby," he insists, still playing with my breasts, holding their weight in his hands while he brushes his thumbs over my nipples. "So beautiful and sexy. How could I get bored with this?"

One hand remains on my breast while the other trails down my stomach until he's stroking softly between my legs, teasing. "Do you like this?"

"You know I do."

I see Edward's smile in the mirror as one long finger pushes at my entrance, his thumb now circling my clit. "Do you see how you're getting turned on? Your skin is flushed and so fucking beautiful."

"Edward," I moan, begging for… something. I can feel his erection pressing against my lower back.

"Hold on to the sink, baby. Now spread your legs a bit. Yeah, just like that." The hand that was playing with my breasts moves to my hip, pulling me back until I'm positioned just the way he wants.

"Edward, you're too tall for this," I protest now that I recognize what he's trying to do.

"Shhh… I admit it'd be easier if you were in high heels, but we can make this work. I just need to bend my knees a little."

He finally removes his hand from between my legs, grasping his cock and running it along my slit to gather the wetness. "Ready or not, baby."

I squeak when he pushes inside. My head falls as the pleasure almost overwhelms me.

"No, baby. Keep watching us in the mirror. Watch what I do to you."

I force my eyes to the mirror and he begins to move, slowly at first but quickly picking up speed. His hands are holding tightly to my hips, while I grip the edge of the countertop securely, trying to keep from being pushed forward with every strong thrust.

"Fuuuucckkk, you feel good. Goddamnit, I should've tried this sooner," he grunts, continuing to piston his hips.

I'm mesmerized by the sight of him in the mirror, the intense look on his face as he fucks me. Neither one of us is going to last very long.

"God, Edward," I whimper, barely able to remain standing as he fucks me with abandon. My orgasm crashes over me in endless waves and I can't help screaming out as he follows right behind me.

Edward's forehead drops to my shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. He slowly pulls out of me and leans back. "Can you stand?" I nod and he steps away, turning on the faucet in my oversized tub. Once it's running, he comes back to me, hugging me from behind.

"You're amazing, baby. I love you so much." I watch in the mirror as his hand rubs along my swollen stomach. "I love you too, baby girl," he whispers. "Don't get jealous of your mama now." He places a soft kiss on my cheek and closes his eyes, holding me tightly.

A couple minutes later, Edward looks back at the tub, adding some of my scented bubble bath before putting his arm around me and leading me toward the tub.

"Edward, there's no way I can—"

His laugh interrupts me. "We're just gonna soak and relax, I promise."

I step gingerly into the tub, still able to feel him between my legs, and sit down in the warm water. Edward climbs in and situates himself behind me, pulling me back into his strong chest. I lean my head back onto his shoulder and close my eyes.

Soon I feel Edward's hands stroking lightly on my arms; they feel so good. Eventually they wander down a little further, drawing small circles on my hips.

"Don't start anything we're not going to finish," I grumble. He chuckles, but his hands stop. The next thing I know, he's kissing the side of my neck. I reach behind me to touch his face, then turn my head until I can kiss him.

We kiss lazily for a couple of minutes until his hands start wandering again. "I'm serious, Edward. If you get all worked up again, you're finishing yourself off."

"Party pooper," he mumbles, pecking my lips. "You know we're gonna have to shower again in the morning so I don't smell like a fucking bouquet of flowers all day."

"We?" I ask, one eyebrow raised.

"Definitely _we_."

* * *

**A/N: **He's trouble, that boy!

Edward got a job, yay! And Charlie is accepting of his daughter's choices, if not entirely happy about it. Edward and Charlie will meet soon.


	29. January 4

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

We've just crossed 100,000 views on this story! Woo! I am a numbers geek so I like round numbers like that. :)

* * *

_Friday, January 4, 2013_

"How are you doing today?" Alice asks as I open the car door and slide into the passenger seat just past noon on Friday.

"I'm doing great," I reply with a smile. Alice raises an eyebrow, smirking at me.

"So, did you want to eat at the Crab Pot again?" she asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

"Sounds good, yeah. Sushi is still out for a few more months," I note, patting my stomach.

As we sit at a traffic light, Alice turns to me. "Did Edward apply for the job at Bella Italia?"

"He did, and they hired him pretty much on the spot!" I reply excitedly. "I could hardly believe it when he showed up yesterday to take me to lunch to celebrate. I guess I don't fully appreciate Edward's notoriety around here."

"Oh, he was always all over the news," Alice confirms. "It really was a big deal, first that a reverend's wife was murdered, and then that the man accused was the son of a prominent doctor and business owner."

"Well, it's working out in his favor now. The owner feels like he can make things right somehow by hiring Edward. Of course, he also had Edward cook something for him and I'm sure he wowed everyone."

"He's really a good cook?" Alice asks.

"Oh yeah, I've benefited from his talents more than once."

"And not just his talents in the kitchen, I'll bet," Alice replies with a grin.

"Alice!"

"Oh, don't you 'Alice' me! You are going to 'fess up, big time," she says as she pulls into the restaurant's parking lot.

Once we're seated and have ordered our drinks and meals, Alice turns to me with an expectant look. "Ok, spill."

"About what?" I ask innocently.

"Don't even think about playing innocent. You have the look of a woman who's getting some on a regular basis."

"What look is that?"

"You're glowing."

"That's from being pregnant," I insist.

"Oh no, that's not a pregnant glow, though you have that too. That's a well-fucked glow. Now spill — Edward just looks like he'd be phenomenal in bed."

I can't help it. I feel the blush spreading from my forehead to my chest.

Alice starts laughing, and I feel my face heat up even more. "Oh, I am so right," she chuckles.

"Edward is… very talented in bed," I confess. And in the shower. And… pretty much all over the house, though we haven't christened any room in my new house outside of the bedroom and bathroom as of yet. I'm sure it's just a matter of time.

"How big?" she whispers confidentially.

"I haven't paid attention."

"Liar, yes you have; every woman does."

Crap, she's never going to let me get out of answering this one. "I have no complaints," I reply, hoping that's enough of an answer.

"You lucky girl," she replies with a grin, shaking her head.

"I am," I answer seriously. "I'm very lucky to have found Edward. For a long time, I underestimated him. I thought he was just about casual sex, but I believe now that he really does love me."

"I am _so_ happy for you," Alice replies genuinely as the server drops off our meals. "Ooh, you're brave enough to try the seafood pasta again, huh?"

"Yeah, I am very glad that the morning sickness phase seems to be behind me," I reply. I have missed eating whatever I want, whenever I want.

"Is Edward excited about the baby?" Alice asks as she picks up a fried shrimp from her plate.

"Yeah, he is," I answer with a smile. "Watching his face when we saw the ultrasound… It's just unbelievable that he got out of prison early enough to experience most of the pregnancy with me."

"So where was he _really_ for four days?" Alice asks curiously.

"He had a lot of legal stuff to take care of, and then he was just coming to terms with everything," I explain. "He was shocked, of course, and a little angry that I hadn't told him sooner. And then I really think he was afraid that I'd be better off raising the baby without him.

"I just meant to let him off the hook if he didn't want to be a dad, but he thought I was telling him that _I_ didn't want him to be. Once again, I didn't have enough faith in him. I have an appointment with my therapist this afternoon and I plan to talk to her about that."

"That sounds like a great idea," Alice replies gently. "You need to have faith. It's can't be any fun living your life just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Just as we finish our meals, Alice gets this excited look on her face. "Ooh, I almost forgot," she begins. "Are you free tomorrow to go shopping for the nursery?"

"I can't tomorrow, but maybe Sunday? Carlisle and Esme are having a big party tomorrow with all of their friends to watch Edward's brother's team in the playoffs. It's a five o'clock start but we have to be there early. Edward is cooking dinner for everyone to eat at halftime; he says it's practice for starting his job on Monday."

"Hmmm… well, it might cost me a blowjob, but I think I can convince Jasper to watch Josh during the Seahawks game Sunday afternoon so we can shop then," Alice replies with a wink as I laugh.

* * *

Edward picks me up from my therapist's office later that afternoon, and I can see the effort it takes him to not ask me how it went. I'd explained to him earlier that my sessions are very emotional and I just need time to reflect, but I'm sure the not-knowing is killing him.

"What have you been doing all day?" I ask, hoping to keep the subject off of me.

"I may have curled up with Leo for a nap after driving you to work," he replies sheepishly. "Then I had lunch with my dad since his shift at the hospital didn't start until later this afternoon."

"Oh that's great," I reply enthusiastically. I know Edward and Carlisle have a bit of a prickly relationship, and it's great to see them working on it. Carlisle just believes that Edward is capable of so much more than what he's shown thus far — and I agree with him.

Once we get home, I change out of my work clothes and join Edward on the couch where he rubs my feet in his lap.

"How much longer are you going to continue working?" he asks.

"Edward," I laugh, "I've still got over five months to go. Most women work right up until they give birth. I'll be fine," I assure him.

Eventually Edward declares that he needs to go make dinner — a chicken marsala recipe that he's practicing for the restaurant.

"Are you sure you're ready to start work on Monday, Edward? Maybe the owner would let you wait another week."

"I need to start earning my keep around here," he insists.

"Yes, but… you've been through a lot emotionally the past several months. It's really ok if you need to take more time to get used to being out of prison, to get used to all of the changes in your life, before going back to work. I won't mind," I promise.

"I've got that time to relax now. I think I just need to stay busy, to get back to something somewhat normal."

I nod slowly. "But if you need to take a step back, no one will blame you."

Edward kisses me quickly before standing up. "I'll be fine, baby."

While we are eating the delicious meal, I remember what Alice and I talked about. "So Alice and I were planning to go shopping for baby things on Sunday, ok? I'll be out of your hair so you and Leo can watch the Seahawks without interruption."

Edward sets down his beer and looks up at me, a strange expression on his face. "What is it?" I finally ask.

"I want to go with you."

"You want to shop for car seats and bedding and stuff?"

"I want to be involved in everything to do with our baby," he answers.

"Really?" I ask, equal parts shocked and amazed.

"Really," he nods. "I missed the first few months. I'm not missing anything else."

"Well, ok," I smile.

"I don't want to miss the football game though. Maybe we can go shopping tomorrow? Early, before I have to get to Mom and Dad's?" he suggests.

"Sure, let me check with Alice after dinner."

Edward offers to handle all of the clean-up and loading the dishwasher while I talk to Alice. She is as amazed as I was that he's offering to go shopping with us, but happy to change our plans — Jasper was apparently whining about not being able to concentrate on the Seahawks game while watching Josh alone.

Once he's done in the kitchen, Edward joins me in the living room, sitting beside me before pulling me onto this lap, straddling his legs.

"It's been way too long since I kissed you," he whispers, pulling me close. I agree, even though we had sex in the shower this morning before Edward drove me to work.

I wind my fingers into Edward's hair — which he still hasn't cut — while his tongue massages mine. I don't think I'll ever get tired of his kisses. Before long, his hands start to wander underneath my sweater and I can feel him hard beneath me. Maybe we'll christen the living room tonight…

Edward pulls me roughly onto him, thrusting up slightly, his hard cock hitting me just where I need him. I lean forward, grinding down on him, loving the way he feels against me.

And then I feel something else, something otherworldly. I only felt it a handful of times three years ago, but I know instantly what it is — the fluttering inside me is the baby moving. I'm so startled that I stop moving, pulling back from Edward's mouth. My hand rushes to my abdomen.

"What is it?" he asks through his pants. "What's wrong?"

"I can feel the baby moving," I reply, still awestruck.

Edward immediately lifts my sweater, placing his hand along the small swell. His brows furrow when of course he doesn't feel anything.

"You won't be able to feel her yet," I tell him gently. "In a few weeks, maybe."

"You can really feel her moving?"

"A little bit, yeah. That was the first time."

He moves his hand gently over my stomach, staring at it in awe. "I know I—I saw the images on the screen and heard the heartbeat, but just knowing there's something moving in there… It's really real, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's real," I whisper.

"There's a real baby in there. I put her there," he says suddenly, a look of pride on his face.

I giggle at him. "Yes, you did."

"It was probably that time we didn't use a condom, huh?"

"Probably," I agree. "But maybe the condom broke one of the other times, or maybe I didn't put it on correctly. We'll never know."

"Tell me honestly," he begins, looking up at me shyly, "Did you want to kill me when you found out you were pregnant?"

"No! Never, Edward. I never blamed you."

"You weren't upset?" he asks skeptically.

"I was shocked, but I wasn't upset. I promise. I may have wanted to kill you a few times when I was on my knees in front of the toilet, however," I add with a chuckle.

Edward grins, looking up at me. "I think I'm glad I missed that part of the pregnancy."

"I'm just glad that you're here now," I whisper.

"Me too," he replies, before kissing my lips gently. "I'm here until you order me away."

I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. I can't resist inhaling deeply; I had really missed his smell, though I'd never tell him that. My lips are on his warm skin, and I tentatively reach my tongue out, licking his neck before sucking his skin into my mouth.

"Are you trying to seduce me again?" I can hear the smile in his voice.

I pull back, staring into his beautiful eyes. "No, I just…"

"You just what, baby?"

I feel heat blooming in my face as I think about telling him. "I missed being close to you. I, um, I kinda stole one of your t-shirts from the drawer at your parents' house. I'd wear it to bed sometimes when I wanted to feel like you were still with me."

Edward smiles gently at me. "You can be close to me anytime you want, baby. I'm not going anywhere, ever again." He pulls me into his chest, stroking his hand through my hair over and over.

"You can seduce me anytime you want, too. I didn't mean to stop you," he chuckles.

Forcing myself away from his warm body, I glare at him. "It always comes back to sex with you, doesn't it."

"Well," he grins sheepishly, "Don't they say men think about sex every seven seconds?"

"I think that's a myth. Except for you, apparently."

Edward laughs loudly, grinning at me before taking my face in his large hands and planting a sloppy kiss on my lips.

* * *

Late Saturday morning, Alice waves enthusiastically as Edward and I exit his Volvo and walk toward the Babies 'R' Us entrance to join her. "Ready to shop?" she asks, practically bouncing on her feet.

"Ready," I reply, letting out a huge breath.

Once we step inside the store, Edward's mouth drops open. "Holy shit, this place is huge!" Alice and I both crack up laughing at him. "Babies really need all this _stuff_?"

"Well, the manufacturers will try to convince us all that they do, but you don't need everything," she answers. "This is where you guys are lucky that you have me — I can tell you exactly what you _really_ need from my own experience."

"So where do we go first?" I ask.

"Furniture first, I think," Alice replies. "Then we'll try to settle on a theme for the bedding before picking out everything else. And we'll need to get you signed up for a registry."

"A registry?" Edward asks, brow furrowed.

"Yeah, the great part about having your first child is you don't have to buy everything yourself," Alice replies with a grin. "Buy the big ticket items like furniture and pick out whatever else you want to go on the registry. I'll plan the baby shower for when there's around six weeks to go, so that gives you time to buy whatever you registered for and didn't get."

"So, cribs first?" Alice asks, while Edward stands shell-shocked. I nod, and the three of us make our way straight ahead to the cribs.

"Ok, first question: standard crib, convertible crib, portable crib or a crib/changing table combo?" Alice asks, ticking each of them off on her fingers.

"I like the idea of a combo, I think," I tell her. "Edward?"

"Uh, sure, yeah… we need both anyway, right?"

"Right. Ok, now we need to choose the color of the wood," Alice continues as she walks down the aisle of cribs. "You already shot down white, right Edward? The other choices look like a light natural color, cherry wood or espresso."

"I thought 'espresso' was a type of coffee?" Edward asks with an adorable confused grin.

"It's also a shade of dark brown, almost coffee-colored," she smiles.

"I like that," he replies.

"Yeah, me too," I agree. "It'll match my own bedroom set."

Given the specifications, we've soon chosen a combo crib and matching dresser and bookcase, as well as a mattress for the crib.

"Ok, that was the easy part," Alice says. "Now the tough part: bedding. Not only will this determine the entire color scheme for the room, but there are a lot of different accessories that will coordinate with it. Did you have anything in mind, Bella?"

"Um, no, not really. I just haven't had time to think about it."

"They have everything here you could possibly ever want," she continues. "You can get something that's definitely meant for a girl, or something more neutral. There are cartoon characters, Disney characters, jungle animals… some are definitely 'baby' while others are more sophisticated and would fit into an adult or older child's room. There are pastels as well as bright colors. You're on your own here; I'm not going to help! Just walk around and see if anything strikes you."

"Are all the girl ones pink?" Edward asks, wrinkling his nose.

"No, not all of them," Alice laughs. "Lavender is popular, too."

"That's purple, right?"

"Yes, that's purple," she chuckles.

All of the bedding seems to be located along the back wall of the store. As I walk up and down the aisle, I just can't imagine choosing only one! So many of them are beautiful. I tend to not be much of a pink girl myself, so I'm with Edward on wanting something where pink plays only a supporting role, if anything.

"Here you go," Edward says suddenly, handing me a large package. I look at the photo on the plastic wrap and I know instantly why he's chosen it. The theme is called "Beautiful Butterfly" and features varying shades of lavender, as well as teal and green.

"Butterflies for your mom?" I ask quietly.

He nods, biting his lip. "Do you like it?"

"I do like it. I was just thinking that I agreed with you about the pink."

"You guys have something?" Alice asks, heading toward us. I show her what Edward has picked out and she nods, placing it in the cart. "It's pretty; I like it."

After we sign up for the registry, Alice looks around at the various signs marking the aisles before pointing to the back corner of the store. "Strollers and car seat next," she decides. "Then all of the little things. Sound good?"

Two hours later, we've looked through literally dozens of strollers and car seats and walked up and down every aisle in the store. My feet are killing me by the time Alice declares that we're done and we head back to the registry counter.

"Fucking finally," Edward grumbles. He has been whining for the last hour, but he refused when we told him he could just go wait in the car.

"You were the one who insisted on wanting to come with us."

"I know," he sighs. "And I want to be a part of this, it's just… I think my balls are gonna shrivel up and fall off if I have to spend much more time in this store."

"Is he always such a drama queen?" Alice asks me with a grin.

"I'm not a drama queen!"

_Drama queen_, Alice mouths, winking at me and making me giggle.

While we wait in line to pay for the handful of items we are buying today, Edward stands behind me, his arms around me with his chin resting on the top of my head. Every few seconds he places a kiss on my hair before swaying me slowly from side to side.

My eyes are closed as I soak up his touches when I hear a voice ask, "Excuse me?" I look up at the young, obviously pregnant woman in front of me as she eyes us curiously. "Are you Edward Cullen?"

"Um, yes," he replies quietly.

"I never thought you were guilty," she says conspiratorially.

I can feel Edward's smile on top of my head. "Thanks."

"Is this your sister?" she asks, nodding to me.

"This is my girlfriend," he replies, squeezing me tighter. I feel a flutter in my chest hearing those words from him — Edward has never called me his girlfriend before.

"Oh!" she exclaims, sounding surprised. "Are you… expecting?" she asks, glancing down toward where my rounded stomach is hidden behind the cart.

"Yes, we are," he replies proudly. "We're having a girl in June."

"Oh, that's wonderful," she replies with a smile. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Edward replies as the woman collects her receipt, waving to us as she pushes her cart toward the door.

"Who knew we were with such a celebrity," Alice giggles from behind us.

* * *

We arrive at Carlisle and Esme's shortly after 3pm and Edward heads straight to the kitchen to start working on pre-game appetizers and a buffet dinner for halftime. Esme shows me the pies that she has been baking for the last two days, and I show her the registry printout and shipping receipt for the furniture so she can see what we bought today.

I sit on a stool at the island watching while Edward works. The main dishes will be barbecue pulled pork, tacos, and the chili he'd made for me back in Aberdeen. Once everything is set for those, he begins working on various dips to go with the bags of chips that Esme bought. He's just finishing up as the first guests arrive.

The Cullens' family room is large, but even with all of the chairs in the house brought into the room, seating will be limited. After placing the platters of appetizers on the coffee table, Edward sits in a large recliner, pulling me onto his lap.

"What?" he asks innocently when I glare at him. "We should share and conserve seats."

As the guests come in, one by one they come up to shake Edward's hand and tell him how thrilled they are that justice was finally served. Just like at the store, he seems a little uncomfortable with all of the attention. But he proudly introduces me as his girlfriend to anyone who greets him.

By halftime, the Packers lead 17-3. Edward promptly heads to the dining room to get everything set up, making sure that it all goes off without a hitch. Everyone at the party compliments his cooking and I'm so proud of him. I can see Esme beaming as her friends see that Edward isn't the screw-up he was always thought to be.

Esme brings out her pies after the third quarter, with the Packers leading 24-3. They eventually win 24-10, and the Cullens let everyone know that they will be having another viewing party next weekend for the game against the 49ers. Edward offers to cook again, saying he still needs to practice cooking for a crowd one more time.

"You don't have to clean up, Edward, I've got it," Esme tells him, shooing him out of the kitchen. "You and Bella go on home and relax."

"Love you, Mom," he tells her, hugging her tightly.

"I love you, too," she replies, kissing his cheek.

Edward makes a face, wiping it off. "I don't want lipstick on my face," he grumbles.

"Such a charmer," I giggle.

"I can't wait to get home and charm your pants off," he whispers the moment we're out of his mother's earshot.

* * *

**A/N: **The guys at work tell me that men only recognize the colors in a box of eight crayons. ;)

This is the bedding Edward picked out:

toysrus d-o-t com (slash) product (slash) index d-o-t jsp?productId=12330409

**NAME EDWARD'S PRINCESS!** So I've already come up with a name for the baby, but readers can have your say! Let me know your choice for the baby's name and why you've chosen it. We'll see if anyone can match my chosen name, or can anyone come up with something so cool that you sway me from my current choice!


	30. January 12

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

No one guessed my baby name. :) Several expect Edward to want to name her after his biological mother in some way.

* * *

_Saturday, January 12, 2013_

I wake up as I have every day for the last 12 days — with Edward wrapped around me. He came home last night exhausted after his first week back at work and went straight to bed after a quick shower without even trying to take my clothes off. But he held me all night as if he's afraid of losing me. I'll never complain though.

Eventually I manage to get myself out of his arms so I can use the bathroom. Edward deserves a break from cooking so I decide to make him pancakes, even though I know he makes them better than I do.

As I flip the pancakes, I think about trying to wake him up and get him to the table but then decide to just bring him breakfast in bed. Of course, I also remember what happened the time he brought _me_ pancakes in bed. I really wouldn't mind a repeat of that morning.

When the pancakes are done, I put them in my stove's warming drawer and head into the bedroom to wake up my boyfriend. I smile when I see he's hugging my pillow again.

"Edward," I whisper, shaking his shoulder. "Time to get up."

"I don't wanna get up," he mumbles.

"I made you pancakes."

I smile as one eye blinks open to look at me. "Can I have you covered in syrup again?"

"Maybe," I reply with a wink. "I'll be back with breakfast in a few minutes," I add before heading back to the kitchen.

Once I've got the tray ready, I carry it into the bedroom, where Edward is now sitting up in bed. His chest is bare, and I imagine he's not wearing any underwear either.

"Thank you," he says, leaning over for a quick kiss after I set it down. I climb onto the bed, sitting cross-legged.

"I know your pancakes are better than mine, but I figured you'll be on your feet all afternoon cooking for the party," I explain.

Edward is uncharacteristically quiet as we eat and I begin to get worried that there's something wrong.

"Are you ok?" I finally ask. He shrugs in response. "Edward?"

"I'm nervous about meeting your dad today," he says quietly. "I know he's going to hate me."

"He doesn't hate you, Edward." I'm so anxious for Charlie to meet Edward. Of course I understand why Edward isn't exactly looking forward to meeting my dad. Whenever I bring up the subject, he replies, "_But he carries a gun."_

"I bet he doesn't _like_ me though."

"He looked at your case file to see if there was anything he could do to get you free," I point out.

"Yeah, for _you_. He didn't do that for me."

"It'll be fine," I assure him, squeezing his hand. "He'll probably just warn you not to hurt me, the same as he'd do for any other guy I dated."

"Are we dating?" he asks with a grin.

"You've taken me on one date," I laugh.

"The day in Olympia? Yeah, I guess that counts. But now we're living in sin, and dads don't like that very much," he replies, rolling his eyes.

"Dad doesn't exactly know we're living together, but no, I'm sure he would prefer to think that I got pregnant via immaculate conception."

"Are you finished?" Edward asks, pointing toward my empty plate. When I nod, he picks up the tray, setting it down on the floor next to the bed. He then turns to me, surprising me as he pounces, leaning me back onto the bed and climbing over me. "How about we practice for our next child?" he asks, brows wiggling.

"Who says I'll want another baby?" I reply with a grin. "I was an only child."

"We can still practice, right?" he asks before sucking on my neck.

"Practice makes perfect," I mumble, pulling him by his still too-long hair until he brings his mouth to mine. I have to admit — I'm not exactly encouraging him to cut his hair; I rather _like_ pulling on it.

I will never, ever get tired of Edward's lips, I think for the umpteenth time. I'm breathless by the time he leaves my mouth to kiss and suck along my jaw, my neck, my collarbone…

"Your beard is scratchy," I complain. I don't think he's shaved in a few days. "And don't you dare give me a hickey a few hours before we're seeing my dad."

"Oh fuck," he says, lifting his face from my skin quickly. "He might see the beard burn, too."

I laugh at him. "He's not going to hurt you, Edward."

Instead of replying, he reaches down to the hem of my pajama top, tugging it up over my head. His hands immediately go to my breasts, kneading them lightly.

"I thought you said once that you weren't a boob man."

"I'm not, really," he chuckles. "But all guys are to some extent." As if to prove his point, he takes my left nipple in his mouth, suckling gently. I tangle my hands in his hair, scratching lightly as he rubs his erection on my leg.

Edward finally tires of my breasts and starts tugging my pants off. His mouth returns to mine and he wraps his arms around me, surprising me when he rolls us over until I'm on top.

"You're not really supposed to lie on your back anymore, right?" he asks when I give him a questioning look.

"Um, soon I guess, yeah," I reply as I sit up, straddling him. I stare into Edward's eyes as I lower myself over him, taking a deep breath as I adjust to his size. I reach for his shoulders to brace myself but Edward grabs my hands with his, holding them tightly as he smiles at me.

Slowly, I start to move, rolling my hips, still maintaining eye contact. Edward begins lifting his hips to meet my downward movement and we quickly fall into a rhythm.

"So good, baby," he moans.

I lean down to kiss him, lifting his hands that I'm still holding up above his head. "Mmmm," I moan as we kiss. I can feel myself getting close, but not close enough. "I need more," I whisper.

"As you wish," he growls.

I yelp as he rolls us over once again, pistoning his hips harder and faster until I'm screaming out my orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck!" Edward yells as he quickly follows me. He pulls out, rolling us onto our sides and wrapping his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. I scratch my nails through his hair again as our breathing slows.

"Can we stay in bed until we need to leave?" he asks sleepily.

I gently lift his face to mine, kissing those amazing lips. "Are you still going to want me like this when I get fat in a few months?"

"You won't be fat," he scoffs. "It'll be my baby in there, and yes, I'll still want you."

"Promise? I won't blame you if you don't."

"Bella," he says sharply. "You'll be even more beautiful when you're hugely pregnant with my child."

"Sex might get kind of awkward then," I note.

Edward rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "Then I'll get creative, like the doctor said. I can start now if you want…"

* * *

By mid-afternoon, I'm sitting at the island at the Cullens' home again, watching Edward cook. As an homage to his new job, he's going with a bit of an Italian theme this time, making appetizers of bruschetta and pull-apart cheesy garlic bread. The chili was so popular last week that he's making it for a second time, along with lasagna and a variety of flatbread pizzas. Once again, I am glad that I can enjoy my food without fear of getting sick.

The guests start arriving about 15 minutes before kickoff, but my dad isn't here yet. Shortly before game time, Esme and I help Edward carry the plates of appetizers to the family room and then he and I take the same chair from last week. In no time, his hand is wandering underneath my sweater.

"Cut it out," I admonish him. "My dad is going to be walking through that door any minute." That does the trick, as he grins sheepishly.

The Packers get off to an early lead after an interception return for a touchdown. Just as we all calm down from celebrating, I hear Esme call out my name. I look up and see her standing in the doorway with my father.

His eyes narrow as he takes in my position on Edward's lap. "Um, hi, Dad," I call. "Um, this is Edward." Dad nods, acknowledging me, before letting Esme show him to an open chair that's been brought in from the dining room.

"Fuck, he hates me," Edward whispers in my ear. "Did you see the way he glared at me?"

"Imagine what he would've done if you'd still been trying to molest me," I shoot back. At his scowl, I lean over and kiss him lightly. "It's gonna be fine."

As the game progresses, Dad keeps throwing glances our way, but Edward holds me tightly in his arms like some sort of shield.

With two and a half minutes remaining in the first half, Emmett catches a long pass for a touchdown to tie the game 21-21. The crowd goes wild, and I want to laugh at how proud Carlisle and Esme are of their son.

"I need to set up dinner," Edward whispers, asking me to let him up from the chair. I decide to avoid my father's glare and help him in the kitchen, putting the pre-made pizzas into the oven.

At halftime, the guests begin making their way to the dining room, where I've been setting all of the food when it's ready.

"This all looks great," my dad comments as he walks into the room.

"Edward made everything," I say proudly.

"Everything?" Dad asks skeptically.

"Yes," I insist. "Esme made the pies for later but Edward did everything else. Try the chili — that's his specialty, I think."

I watch as my dad fills his plate before heading back to the family room.

"Dad just got some food," I tell Edward quietly once I find him in the kitchen. "I'm sure you're going to impress him." He looks so nervous and I can't resist kissing him.

I fix myself a plate and return to the family room, taking the empty seat next to my father.

"You didn't tell me he had tattoos," he comments quietly. Shit, I should've thought to stop Edward from wearing just a t-shirt today.

"The tattoos are an important part of him. They mean a lot to him. Don't be rude, Dad," I admonish him.

"I'm just saying," he replies, holding his hands up. "How does he expect anyone to take him seriously?"

"Wait until you have a chance to meet him properly before passing judgment, please."

Dad and I give our plates to Esme when she comes to collect them. He turns to me then, an apprehensive look on his face as he clears his throat. "So, um, Tuesday is the anniversary."

"Yes," I reply quietly.

"Now that you're back in Seattle, were you planning on going to the cemetery?"

I nod. "Jasper said he'd take me Tuesday afternoon. I need to say goodbye."

I'm startled when Edward comes into the room as I'm speaking, carrying his own plate. When he takes a seat in "our" recliner, I say goodbye to my dad for now and go to sit with Edward.

"Everybody loves your cooking again," I tell him.

"Even your dad?"

"He cleaned his plate."

Edward smiles and I wrap my arms around him, leaning my head on his chest while he eats.

After San Francisco takes a 38-24 lead early in the fourth quarter, the writing is on the wall. A handful of guests start to leave as the mood sobers. Edward heads out to the kitchen to start cleaning things up.

When the game is over and the rest of the guests have left, I know it's time to stop delaying the inevitable. "Dad, are you ready to officially meet Edward?" He nods, and I step into the kitchen to retrieve my boyfriend.

"Come on, let's do this," I tell him, pulling him by the hand. Edward grips my hand tightly as the two of us return to the family room. "Dad, this is Edward Cullen. Edward, this is my dad, Chief Charles Swan."

My dad holds his hand out and Edward reluctantly lets go of my hand to shake it. "It's nice to meet you, Sir."

"Edward," my dad nods. "Congratulations on your release from prison. As a cop, I really hate to see fellow cops get the wrong man."

"It was definitely a relief; I was afraid the day would never come. And, um, thank you for any part you played in it. I'm so happy to be out and back with Bella," he adds, putting his arm around me.

Dad looks over at me, watching the movement of Edward's arm. "I didn't realize before — you're really starting to show now, Bells."

"Um, yeah," I reply, feeling my face heat up. "I know women usually say they get bigger faster with a second pregnancy, but I wasn't sure if that was going to apply to me."

"You look beautiful, baby," Edward says quietly, pulling me close.

"She does," my dad agrees. "I can't remember the last time I saw my daughter this happy. I'm going to assume you had something to do with that."

"I hope so," Edward answers. "Bella means a lot to me, Chief Swan. I know what she risked for me, and I'll never forget that. If she'd gotten arrested because of me, I…" He trails off, shaking his head.

"That whole situation could've turned out a lot worse."

"I know," Edward replies guiltily.

"I think it's time you and I had a man-to-man chat," Dad suggests. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

Edward swallows hard before nodding. "The back deck?" I squeeze his hand as he pulls away from me, leading the way to the deck. Instead of standing around freaking out, I head into the kitchen where Esme looks at me questioningly.

"Uh, Dad and Edward are having a man-to-man chat out on the back deck."

"I see," she says with a smile.

"Edward was so worried that Dad would hate him."

"I think once your dad sees how much Edward loves you, he'll be supportive."

"I sure hope so," I reply, wringing my hands as I wait.

A few minutes later, I hear the door to the deck close and hurriedly head back to the family room. Edward looks more pale than usual, but no worse for wear. I wrap my arms around him, glad when he hugs me back.

"Bells," Dad begins. "Sorry but I really need to get going."

"Oh, you're not going to stay in town tonight?" I feel Edward's arms tighten and realize he probably doesn't want my dad spending the night in our house. Besides the fact that Dad would learn we're living together, no way would I have sex in the same house as my dad.

"No, I have an early shift tomorrow."

"Ok," I acquiesce, "Well, please drive safely. You weren't drinking, were you?"

"One beer in the first half," he answers. "I'll be fine. Do you want me to call you when I get home?"

"Oh, um, I'll probably be asleep. This baby makes me tired," I complain. I walk my dad to the door, giving him a quick hug goodbye before turning back to Edward. "Are you all right?"

"Sure," he replies. "Totally unscathed."

"What did you and Dad talk about?" I ask curiously.

"Man stuff."

"Not for a woman's ears?"

Edward sighs, hugging me close. "We have an understanding, but I don't know if your dad will ever be my biggest fan."

A half hour later, the kitchen is cleaned up, we've said our goodbyes to Carlisle and Esme, and we're on our way home.

"Did your dad like Jacob?" Edward asks suddenly.

"Um, yeah, I guess. But Jacob's dad was his best friend, so…"

Once we get home, Edward heads straight for the couch, pulling me onto his lap. I've come to expect that by now.

"Why did you ask Jasper to take you to the cemetery?" he asks quietly. "Do you not want me there?"

My mouth opens and closes a few times as I stare at him. "I figured you'd have to work," I reply. "And even if you were available, I really didn't think you'd _want_ to go."

"It's my job to support you, baby."

"Yes, but—"

"I'll see if I can trade shifts with someone and take you, ok? I want to be there for you, always."

"Ok," I whisper, letting him pull me close.

* * *

With the early sunset in Seattle in January, Edward picks me up from work around 3pm on Tuesday. I give him directions to the cemetery that I'd only visited once before; otherwise we drive in silence. Once we pass through the gates, I quietly tell Edward where to turn until we reach Jacob's grave.

I take a deep breath and open the car door, walking slowly across the grass until I find his headstone. A large bouquet of flowers sits in front of the stone; clearly someone else has been here today.

I jump when I feel Edward's touch on my arm. I was so lost in my own world that I didn't realize he had followed me.

"I need to talk to Jacob alone, Edward," I whisper. "Can you wait by the car?"

"Sure, baby," he replies, kissing my cheek before heading back to the car.

"Hi, Jake," I begin quietly once I'm alone. "I'm sorry I haven't come here before. I, um, left Seattle a couple months after… after the accident."

"I'm so sorry, Jake," I sob. "For everything. For not believing in you, for going behind your back to get pregnant, for the accident. I made so many mistakes, and nothing I ever do can make up for them."

I kneel on the ground, running my fingers lightly over the cold marble. "I've met someone," I whisper. "I hope you can be happy for me. He loves me so much; it's obvious in everything he does, even if I didn't see it for a long time. He makes me feel so loved, so special, so… wanted." My tears start to fall faster as I realize I never felt like that during my time with Jake. I didn't believe in him because I couldn't feel his love for me, not the way I feel Edward's.

"We're having a baby, Jake — Edward and I. A little girl, due in five months. After I lost our son, I felt like I may never become a mom, but I've been given a second chance. And I'm not going to screw it up this time, I promise."

"Please be happy for me," I beg. "I'm happy now, truly happy with my life. And I hope you are too, wherever you are."

As I break down sobbing, Edward kneels beside me, taking me in his arms. He strokes his hand through my hair, not saying a word.

"Come on, baby," he finally whispers, helping me to my feet. My knees buckle and suddenly I'm lifted off the ground, being carried in his strong arms. When we reach the car, he gently puts me down and opens the door, helping me inside.

After a quiet drive home, Edward lifts me out of the car over my protests, carrying me into the house and to the bedroom, where he carefully lays me down on our bed.

"Why don't you take a nap," he suggests quietly. "I'll wake you up for dinner in a couple hours."

As he kisses my cheek and walks away, I want to call for Edward to come back, but I'm so drained. He probably assumes I'm upset and missing Jacob, and I need to tell him the real reason why I broke down.

I'm awakened some time later by soft fingers brushing through my hair and soft lips brushing along my cheek. "Wake up, baby," he whispers. I slowly sit up, where I'm met by Edward's lips on my own. "Dinner in five minutes, ok?" I nod, heading into the bathroom when he leaves me alone.

A few minutes later, I step into the kitchen, sitting quietly in a chair. Edward places a plate filled with fried fish and vegetables in front of me. "Um, I saw something in the fridge called Harry's Fish Fry."

"Harry Clearwater is a friend of my dad's," I explain. "He's famous for this back in Forks."

Edward eyes me curiously as we eat, but stays mostly quiet. I want to tell him that we'll talk after dinner, but I'm well aware that the words, "_We need to talk,_" strike fear in every man, so I remain silent.

Once we're finished eating, we clean up in silence and then head into the living room together, where Edward immediately reaches for the remote control.

"Edward," I begin quietly, "I need to explain something to you."

"It's fine, Bella. I know you're missing Jacob right now." He doesn't _sound_ like it's fine.

"That's not it," I insist, climbing into his lap. I brush my fingers through his hair, then kiss him gently. "Do you remember when you told me that maybe Jake wasn't the love of my life?"

He nods. "You got mad at me, even though I was trying to make you feel better."

"Did you… I mean, were you trying to say that _you_ were my one great love?"

Edward's eyes widen as he stares at me. "I—no, I wasn't. I mean, I didn't recognize then what I felt for you."

"You are," I whisper. "I realized today that in ten years with Jake, he never made me feel as loved and desired as you do. You were right that day in everything you said. I made so many mistakes trying to save a marriage that wasn't meant to be saved.

"Jacob and I weren't soul mates. We were best friends who thought we were in love. But now I know what it really feels like to be in love." I lean forward, pouring every ounce of love I have for him into my kiss.

When I pull back, Edward tenderly holds my face in his hands, a small smile on his face. "I love you so much, baby. I didn't know it that day, but I know it now. You are without a doubt my one true love, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy."

"Forever," I whisper.

"Forever," he nods.

* * *

**A/N: **This is it, the final chapter now that we've come full circle. There will be two Epilogues, one set a few months in the future and one a few years later.

So moosals pre-read this chapter and immediately wanted to know what Charlie said to Edward out on the deck. I finally caved and wrote up their conversation as a surprise for her. It's too short to post as an outtake chapter, but **if you review this chapter, I'll send it to you**. ;)

Since it's the final regular chapter, I'd love to know what you've thought of the story! I am taking Friday off work so I'll have a four-day weekend to reply to all the reviews! ;)


	31. Epilogue 1, 6 Months Later

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

A reminder that you can still review the previous chapter to read Charlie and Edward's conversation. Don't be shy! I promise I don't bite. :)

* * *

_Monday, July 15, 2013_

I lie in our bed, propped up on one hand, watching Edward walk slowly back and forth across the bedroom through the dim light of the bedside lamp. Never mind that he worked an 11-hour shift today at the restaurant — he insists on being the one to get up at 2am with our twenty-five-day-old daughter when she gets fussy. He also insisted on bringing her bassinette into our room, even though she has a beautiful, designer nursery down the hall.

Charlotte Elizabeth Cullen was born at 12:05am on June 20 — five days after her due date. More importantly, to Edward at least, she was born on his 25th birthday. And she's had him wrapped around her little finger ever since.

Choosing a name for our child was quite the battle. Edward wanted something that had "meaning," while I wanted to name her after family. We finally settled on Charlotte, as the feminized version of Charles, once Edward learned that the name meant "free." He still prefers to call her his "Lotte" though, because he feels like he won the lottery.

I watch as Edward holds the fussy baby up to his face, one arm supporting her head, while he smothers her face with kisses. I have to close my eyes for a minute as I feel myself starting to tear up. Despite his earlier fears, he really is the best dad in the world.

Suddenly, Edward giggles, cooing at the baby as if she has just done the most amazing thing. A few seconds later, I wrinkle my nose as I realize she filled her diaper. Edward quickly stalks off to the nursery, where her changing table is located, to take care of the problem. I smile as I remember the first time I showed him how to change a diaper, the day we brought her home from the hospital. Edward held his nose, complaining that he needed a gas mask. But now, _now_ his baby daughter can do no wrong.

Just a few short minutes later, Edward and Charlotte are back and he resumes pacing, trying to settle her down in his arms. I know he's doing this so that I can sleep, but I can't resist watching the two of them just a little while longer.

The six months that Edward and I have been together haven't been perfect, but we've definitely found something that works for us. Between his impulsiveness and my over-thinking, we have managed to meet in the middle somehow.

After his conviction was overturned, Edward was quite the celebrity in King County. The requests for interviews continued for months. Though he was initially against it, Edward did decide to take the advice of his lawyer and sue for compensation for his wrongful conviction. If for no other reason, he wants to pay his parents back for all that they spent in legal fees for him over the years. The case is still pending, but he's hopeful that he can win.

Since the owner of Bella Italia hired him, Edward has been cooking there regularly several days per week. After much prodding, he applied to Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts, the largest culinary school in Seattle. They had new classes starting April 8, so he didn't even have to wait until Fall as I'd expected. Edward's parents were only too happy to help him with the tuition, at least until the court case is decided and he can pay them back. He's been doing a great job of juggling classes and his job since April. I almost feel bad that he's quieting the baby at 2am when I'm the one on maternity leave, but I know he's doing exactly what he wants to be doing.

Edward pretty much always does what he wants to do. I try not to be one of those nagging girlfriends — I let him go out with his friends occasionally without checking up on him. He promised no other women and no more illegal drugs, and I'm sure he's kept his promise. He definitely comes home tasting like alcohol and smelling like pot, but we have implemented a bit of a 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy — I don't ask whether Edward or just his friends have been smoking. It's legal now anyway, as he reminds me. And he hasn't been out since Charlotte was born.

The baby finally falls asleep in Edward's arms, and he carefully lays her down in the bassinette before climbing into bed and turning off the light. He pulls me close, kissing me softly before whispering how much he loves me and our daughter. This is bliss.

* * *

Monday morning comes much earlier than the exhausted father would like. I shut off the alarm and check on Charlotte, quickly determining that she needs changing again. She also needs breakfast, but it looks like waking up my boyfriend needs to be my first priority, before he's late for school.

I sit on the edge of the bed and slowly peel the covers back, unveiling Edward's sexy, tattooed chest. I run my finger lightly over his newest tattoo. He got it within days of Charlotte's birth, a tattoo of her baby footprints, name and birth date. It starts just below the butterfly, running down his torso so that one of the footprints covers the small scar from his gunshot wound. I kiss the ink lightly and giggle as he stirs.

"Don't tease, Bella," he mumbles, eyes still closed.

I smile, even though he can't see me. Edward has been a great sport since Charlotte's birth, and even in the couple of months before that. At some point I just felt so fat and unattractive that I wasn't interested in sex as often as Edward was. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy his creative positions, because I did, but I was exhausted all the time, with an aching back and swollen ankles. The last thing I wanted to do was be naked in front of another person.

I broke the news to him long ago that we couldn't have sex for six weeks after I gave birth. Once he stopped pouting, he told me he could live with that… as long as he got blowjobs. Well, he hasn't gotten a blowjob since Charlotte's birth. I'm feeling more like my old self this morning though, so I decide to treat him. I carefully pull back the covers, revealing his morning wood. I look up just as one of Edward's eyes peeks open to look at me. He'll never ask but I know he wants this.

I reach over to his very hard cock, pumping it twice before leaning over and taking him in my mouth. His eyes are wide open now, watching me while I pleasure him. He reaches for my head, holding my long hair out of the way so he can watch the way his cock moves in and out of my mouth.

"Didn't… have to… do this, Bella," he mumbles. I hum my reply while I concentrate on the swollen head. I can tell that this is going to be over very, very quickly.

Edward starts pumping his hips ever so slightly as his moans grow louder. "Oh fuck," he cries, moments before he comes. I quickly swallow and lick him clean.

"It's time to get up, Edward," I tell him when he just continues to lie there in his post-orgasmic haze.

With a large groan, he sits up, kissing me quickly and whispering that he loves me before heading into the bathroom. With Edward taken care of, I lift Charlotte from her bassinette and settle onto the bed to nurse her while Edward showers.

* * *

Hours later, Charlotte is asleep and I try to enjoy the peace and quiet. My mom came to stay with us for the first week after I gave birth. Alice, Jasper, Esme and Carlisle have been popping by regularly ever since. We even got a visit from Edward's brother and his wife when they were in town for the holiday weekend. I first met them in late January when they visited his parents. Emmett is a hoot; it's too bad he lives in Wisconsin for most of the year. I still feel bad that we missed their wedding the first weekend of June, but I was too close to my due date to travel, and Edward wouldn't leave me alone.

My dad came to visit last weekend. I was actually kind of glad that Edward had to work most of the time Charlie was here. The two of them still have a bit of a… strained relationship, you could say.

In my dad's eyes, no one will ever be good enough for his little girl, especially not an ex-con. He softened his stance a bit when Edward started school, but I know he's still concerned about Edward's ability to "support" me. I tell my father repeatedly that I don't need a man to support me, but he's still old-fashioned that way.

I'll never forget the first time Edward and my dad met in person. He never would tell me what Charlie said to him during their chat on the back deck, though knowing my dad, I'm sure it involved the threat of castration if he ever hurt me.

Charlotte's cries on the baby monitor snap me out of my memories. I hastily change her diaper then bring her into the living room to feed her.

As she nurses, I stare down at my beautiful baby girl. Her thin hair seems to be favoring Edward's right now, with a slight reddish tint to it. Her eyes are still blue, though Edward is really hoping they turn brown. She has his nose and chin, though Edward thinks she looks more like me.

I love being a mother. It's everything I thought it would be and more. I'll be forever grateful that I got a second chance. I'd seriously consider being a stay-at-home mom if I wasn't concerned about going through the rest of the insurance money. I put most of what was left after buying the house into a college fund for Charlotte within days of her birth.

I've just switched sides when I hear Edward arrive home from class. "In the living room," I call after I hear the door open from the garage.

"How are my two favorite girls?" he asks, kissing me thoroughly.

"Fine," I giggle. "What's in the bag?" I ask, nodding toward the large bag in his hand.

"Dinner for you," he replies. "It's a baked salmon we made in class today. You can just heat it up while I'm at the restaurant."

"Sounds yummy."

When I finish feeding Charlotte, Edward immediately takes her from me to burp her, his large hand rhythmically patting her back. I never could've imagined how much he'd take to fatherhood.

Once the baby falls asleep, we have a little time to cuddle and chat about our days before Edward has to go in to work the evening shift. I remind myself that he'll have his Certificate in less than a year, then things will slow down… unless he decides to further his education and get a full Associates Degree.

"Do you need anything before I leave?" he asks. "Anything from the store?"

I shake my head. "I'm good."

No, I'm still unable to drive. I'm doing much better after months of therapy. My therapist has helped me to see that my insecurities over Jacob's loyalty to me actually led to my own downfall, though she insists that I'm not to blame for everything, and I finally believe that. Consequently, I hardly have any PTSD symptoms any more — unless I try to drive. At some point, Edward made me stop trying, afraid that I'd crash and hurt the baby. I intend to try again soon though; I want my independence back.

Edward kisses me goodbye and I'm alone once again. After I heat up his delicious dinner, I nurse Charlotte again and then settle in to watch some TV. Watching a crime show makes me think of James Hunter's upcoming trial. He's been pulling out all the stops, and it's already been postponed twice, but it's currently scheduled to start in two weeks. Even though Edward is totally in the clear — Grays Harbor County dropped any charges related to his escape — this just won't feel _over_ until Hunter is in jail for the crime for which Edward was once convicted.

A couple of months back, Angela Weber was convicted of perjury for lying on the witness stand in Edward's trial. She was sentenced to four months in prison — roughly Edward's time served — and will be on probation for two years. I attended her trial since Edward was called as a witness, but I hope to never lay eyes on that young woman again. Her father came up to Edward on a break one day and apologized on behalf of his daughter, though she and Edward never spoke directly — fine by me since I still have a bit of an irrational jealous streak where she is concerned.

After Charlotte's next feeding, I go for a nap on our bed. I'm awakened by soft kisses on my collarbone and Edward gently removing my clothes. Once I'm stripped down to my panties, he begins kissing his way down my chest and stomach.

"Can I?" he asks shyly, his finger poised at the top of my panties.

"I'm not cleared to have sex yet, Edward."

"I know… but what if I don't go, you know, inside? I just want to make you feel good," he promises.

I look at his earnest face and nod. "No fingers," I whisper.

He smiles that beautiful smile before slowly tugging my panties down my legs. The baby is sleeping, so I try hard not to cry out when his tongue touches me for the first time in weeks.

I close my eyes and enjoy as Edward's very talented tongue gets reacquainted with me. Using just the tip, he circles and laps at my clit, before flattening his tongue and licking up and down. Oh, he's good, he's very good. I wasn't feeling particularly aroused when he volunteered, but in no time at all, I'm breathing heavily, wanting to come.

"Edward," I moan, pulling on his hair. He wraps his entire mouth around me, sucking hard and suddenly I'm crashing, the shudders rippling through me. "Mmmmmmm…"

After one final kiss, he licks his lips and crawls up my body. "Hi," he whispers.

"Hi yourself. I don't think I have to tell you how amazing that was."

I want to laugh as Edward glows with pride.

"A thank you for this morning?" I ask.

"Yes and no." I narrow my eyes at him. "Come on, let's get ready for bed and then I'll tell you."

Once I've finished my nightly routine in the bathroom, I feed Charlotte one more time and crawl into bed, waiting for Edward to kiss his daughter goodnight. As he walks to the bed, he looks suddenly shy.

"Um, so… I did that earlier to thank you, and to butter you up so you say yes to something."

I roll my eyes. He usually gets his way without any special effort.

"What do you want, Edward?" I sigh.

I'm shocked when he reaches into the pocket of the jeans he'd discarded on the floor — yes, Edward is a bit of a slob — and pulls out a diamond ring.

"I want you to marry me," he whispers. Oh my God.

"I know I'm not anyone's idea of the ideal man," he continues. "And I know your dad probably still hates me. But I love you. You and Charlotte are my family now, and I want to make it official. I want everyone to know that you're both mine."

"Edward, where did you get this ring? It's beautiful!"

"It was my real mom's," he says shyly. "The social workers gave it to me when I was in the hospital and my dad got sent away to jail. I'd forgotten all about it until Mom said something to me after I told her that I was going to ask you.

"You still haven't said yes, you know," he reminds me.

I laugh through my tears. "Yes," I nod, "I'll marry you. Maybe you'll never be perfect, but you're perfect for me, Edward."

"Yeah? Really?"

"Really," I choke out.

Edward places the ring on my finger before climbing on top of me, kissing me passionately.

"Seventeen days," he growls.

"What?"

"Seventeen days until we can have sex. I'm such an idiot."

"Why?" I chuckle.

"I should've waited to ask you until I could make love to my fiancée afterward."

"Well… you can make out with your fiancée."

"That I can," he smirks.

* * *

**A/N: **So how are they doing after six months? :)

Go ahead and tell me what loose ends I forgot to tie up! I'm sure I forgot something, but I tried.

I know this one was kind of short, but the second Epilogue is much, much longer. So long in fact that I'm going to split it up. It'll start posting next Monday.


	32. Epilogue 2, Part 1

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Welcome to the second Epilogue! As it got so out of control long, it'll be posted in five parts this week, with the middle three sort of a "real time" updating. This part is the shortest, while the fifth part is the longest.

* * *

_March 2016_

"Daddy!" our beautiful redheaded toddler yells as she runs toward Edward, the second he steps inside the door from the garage.

Edward scoops her up, lifting her into his arms. "Hiya, Princess! What are you still doing up this late?"

"Mommy said!" she yells, pointing at me. Charlotte pretty much never uses her "inside voice," despite repeated reminders.

"Oh, she did, did she?" Edward grins at his daughter, then looks over to me with one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"She wanted to see your face when I gave you the news," I explain.

"News?" His brows furrow for a moment before his face lights up. "_That_ news?"

"No, not that," I clarify, watching as his face falls slightly. Edward and I have been trying for another baby since Christmas without success. Not that he minds _trying_… "Tell him, Charlotte," I prompt her.

"Food!" she yells.

"I just came from the restaurant, but I didn't know I was supposed to bring you anything," Edward says, looking adorably confused.

"No, Daddy! Food called."

"The Food Network called for you this afternoon," I translate, "About your application for Chopped. They want you for the show," I tell him excitedly.

"Really? They picked me?" he asks in disbelief. I prodded Edward for months to apply for his favorite show, but when he saw that one of the application questions was," Have you ever been convicted of a crime?" he thought his chances of ever being chosen were pretty much zero.

"Yes," I insist with a huge grin. "They want you for a show featuring West Coast chefs. You need to call them back tomorrow and set up a time for when they can send a camera crew out to film you at the restaurant. They're hoping to film the episode in six to eight weeks, whenever all four chefs can get the time off."

"I'm gonna be on Chopped?"

"Yes, Edward," I chuckle. "You're gonna be a TV star."

"Yay," Charlotte claps, her green eyes sparkling, "Daddy a TV star!"

Edward grins at her. "Time for you to get to bed, young lady."

"Daddy tuck me in?" I want to laugh at the way Charlotte bats her eyelashes at him.

"Sure, Princess," he smiles. Edward starts walking toward the bedrooms, then stops and turns back around to me. "Be back soon."

I settle in on the couch, back to the TV program I'd been watching when Edward arrived home. When he hasn't returned 15 minutes later, I decided to go check on him.

When I reach Charlotte's bedroom, I see Edward sitting on the side of the small toddler bed, slouched against the headboard. He seems to be telling her a story of a superhero chef, saving the world with his cooking. Stifling my laughter, I stand watching them until finally Edward leans over, kissing his sleeping daughter's forehead tenderly.

I attempt a stealth getaway but Edward spots me anyway. He closes the bedroom door behind him, then takes my hand, leading me back to the living room. When we reach the couch, he pulls me onto his lap, his hands stroking my sides.

"They really picked me?" he whispers, still seeming to be in disbelief.

"Really," I smile. "I spoke to one of the casting directors myself."

"You're coming with me, right?"

"With you?"

"To New York City, where the Food Network studios are. We can get my parents or Alice and Jasper to watch Charlotte and have a mini vacation, just you and me. I need you there to support me, baby."

"Of course I'll come with you," I reply, kissing him softly.

* * *

**A/N: **I had this silly idea of Edward appearing on Chopped and couldn't let it go. If you aren't familiar with the show, you can watch videos of some recent episodes on the Food Network website.

foodnetwork d-o-t com (slash) chopped2 (slash) video (slash) index d-o-t html

I've had a few requests for some outtakes or EPOV from the story. We'll see about the EPOV. ;) Feel free to tell me what you'd like to see and I'll consider it!

Part 2 tomorrow!


	33. Epilogue 2, Part 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Thanks for the great response to the first part! Here is more, let's go to NYC!

**NOTE:** If you reviewed Chapter 30 for the outtake, make sure you have PMs turned on!

* * *

_May 2016_

On a Wednesday in the middle of May, Edward and I make the five-hour flight from Seattle to JFK airport, landing just after 9pm. Since neither one of us has ever been to the East Coast, we're as excited about the trip to New York City as we are for Edward's appearance on Chopped.

Charlotte is staying with Carlisle and Esme until we return home Sunday. We've only left her a handful of times before and by the time we touch down in NYC, I'm already missing her terribly. We even took Charlotte along on our honeymoon to Hawaii two years ago. Carlisle and Esme came along as well, to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and help babysit, so both couples could have some alone time.

I'm wondering what the fuss is about New York traffic as the cab driver follows the expressways through Queens, but once we cross the Midtown Tunnel into Manhattan and start driving west along 42nd Street, I'm about to tear my hair out in the stop and go traffic. Eventually we reach Times Square and our hotel, the Marriott Marquis. Even though it's after 10pm, the streets are still teeming with lights and people.

I'm thankful for blackout drapes when we reach our room; otherwise I have no idea how I'd fall asleep with all of that neon outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. We're both exhausted from the long flight, so after a quick shower and call to Seattle, we fall into bed.

* * *

Edward is filming Chopped on Friday, leaving us Thursday and Saturday to play tourist together. We've decided to see the upper part of Manhattan today and lower part on Saturday. While Edward is filming, I'll get a chance to visit everything that he has no interest in — like the huge Macy's store.

After breakfast in the hotel, we set out for Rockefeller Center and the NBC Studios tour that Edward wanted to do. From there, we walk the several blocks to the Empire State Building for a trip up to the observation deck.

After a quick stop to check out Penn Station, we head back uptown on the subway to Central Park. Edward is a bit of a food snob, but he puts aside his prejudices to try lunch from a street vendor before we start walking through the park hand in hand.

After wandering around for a half hour or so, Edward leads me to a large expanse of grass littered with wildflowers, but not very many people. Though it's only May, the temperature is quite warm, warmer than it is in Seattle at this time of year.

Edward sits down on the grass, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He pulls me down to sit between his legs, my back to his chest, and hugs me close.

"This is beautiful," I note with a sigh. "Seattle just doesn't have anything like this."

"It's so quiet. Hard to believe the city is just right outside the trees," he replies, nuzzling my neck. "I wish there were no other people around."

"Why?" I ask curiously. "No one's bothering us."

"Because you won't let me take your clothes off with anyone around."

How stupid of me — after three and a half years together, I should've guessed that his comment was related to sex. "Even if we were alone, I wouldn't have sex with you outside in the park."

"Oh, I bet I could change your mind," he replies confidently.

"I bet you couldn't. First of all, it's illegal, I'm sure. And second, there are… bugs out here. Who knows what could crawl on me." I shudder just thinking about it.

Edward laughs, squeezing me tighter. "I'd let you be on top then."

"Why are we even discussing this? It's not going to happen!"

"You've gotta let me have _some_ fun on this trip, baby!" he whines. "For once, we can be as loud as we want without worrying about curious ears."

"You can have your fun in the comfort of our hotel room."

"Is that a promise?"

I roll my eyes, though he can't see me. Almost 28 years old and he _still_ has the libido of a 17-year-old boy.

We eventually make our way to Strawberry Fields, the area of Central Park named in honor of John Lennon, which Edward wants to see. Nearby is the American Museum of Natural History — the only museum he would agree to visit with me.

After spending several hours in the huge museum, we take the subway back to the hotel to change into nicer clothes for dinner. Edward is looking mighty sexy in a pin-striped button-down shirt and dark wash jeans, while I put on the new black dress I bought just for this trip.

Through his connections at the Food Network, Edward was able to get us reservations at Bar Americain, one of Bobby Flay's restaurants. Though it's not far, we decide to take a cab there since we're a little short on time. After we place our order, Edward looks around the restaurant, a wistful look on his face. "One day I'm gonna have a place like this," he declares.

"I have no doubt that you will."

"I wish Bobby Flay was here, so he could give me some pointers on Chopped."

"He's never been on it, has he?"

"I think he judged a special episode one season."

"You would know better than me," I chuckle.

After a bowl of the best onion soup I've ever had, the server brings our dinners. Edward ordered steak, while I am trying the striped bass. Everything is absolutely delicious, and I know why Bobby Flay is as famous as he is. I claim I'm too stuffed from dinner to order dessert, but then our server shows us the dessert tray, and I have to try the red velvet cake sundae.

"Oh my God, I think you need to carry me back to the hotel, Edward," I complain, holding my stomach as we step out of the restaurant. We decide to walk back to Times Square in a pitiful attempt at walking off all of the calories we consumed today. Luckily I wore fairly comfortable shoes tonight.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" I ask Edward as we walk.

He shrugs. "I don't think I'll get nervous until I see the mystery baskets. The dessert round kinda scares me, though I've had our pastry chef show me a few things for the last couple weeks."

"You have to make it to the dessert round first," I remind him.

"I'll make it," he says confidently. I can never say that Edward lacks confidence in his cooking abilities, especially since he graduated with his Associates Degree in Culinary Arts and got promoted to sous chef.

Once we reach the hotel, we walk across the lobby and wait for one of the many elevators. Just as the doors are about to close, another couple steps inside, pressing the button for a higher floor than ours, and I see Edward scowl at them. I have no idea what his problem is.

After we get off on our floor, I turn to him, curious about his attitude. "Why the scowl when the other couple got on?"

"Because you'd never let me feel you up unless we were alone."

I shake my head, smacking him on the arm. "You never quit trying to get in my pants."

"I'm your husband; it's my job," he deadpans, running our keycard through the reader.

Edward motions for me to enter the room first. I flip the light switch but before I can take another step, he spins me around, pressing my back into the door.

"You have been driving me fucking crazy all night," he growls.

"What?"

"That dress, baby!" Edward's hands lift up the flowy skirt until he can hitch my leg over his hip, grinding his very hard cock against me. "Fuck, I had to stare at your cleavage the whole time we were at the restaurant, and then see your legs for the last ten minutes while we were walking."

Before I can even blink, he's kissing me, one hand on my ass while the other kneads my breast. I reach out blindly, tugging his shirt out of his pants and popping the button, then sliding his zipper down.

"Fuck," he moans as I palm his cock through his boxers, his hand sliding around from my ass until one long finger pushes at my entrance. The hand on my breast moves to pull his cock out through the hole in his boxers, then shoves my thong panties out of the way. He's buried inside me before I even realize what is happening.

Abruptly, Edward lifts me up, pinning me against the door with his body as he fucks me. He buries one hand in my hair, tilting my head back so that he can kiss me.

"Jesus, Edward," I complain once his lips move to my neck. "Anyone walking by the room will be able to hear us!"

"Who the fuck cares?" he growls. "They don't know us."

I try to protest once more, but I'm pretty much rendered incoherent by the feelings coursing through me. When my orgasm crashes over me, I cry out loudly.

"Fuck, baby!" Edward yells as he quickly follows me. Breathing heavily, he leans his forehead on my shoulder, keeping us intimately connected. I run my hands through his hair, knowing how much he loves that.

Finally, he lifts his head, kissing me softly. I hiss as he pulls out, slowly lowering me to my feet.

"What the hell was that?" I pant.

"I can't ravage you at home since Charlotte learned to get out of bed on her own," he shrugs. I roll my eyes in response.

"Come on," he says, tugging on my hand, "That shower looks awfully inviting."

"It's just a regular bathtub with a shower head, Edward," I reply, rolling my eyes again. But I let him lead the way.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, Edward hasn't changed. ;)

I have actually eaten at Bar Americain, for a work event. The hors d'oeuvres were yummy and it really was the best onion soup I've ever had. I was disappointed in my filet mignon and the chocolate cream pie though. And totally stuffed when I walked out.

Part 3 tomorrow! It's filming day!


	34. Epilogue 2, Part 3

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Time for Edward to film Chopped!

* * *

_May 2016_

Though there are less than 90 minutes of actual cooking time, Chopped apparently takes all day to film, up to 12 hours, so Edward takes off for the Food Network studios, located on 9th Avenue near Chelsea Market, bright and early Friday morning. I tell him to text me with updates if he's allowed to have his phone on.

Once I'm dressed, I head first to Starbucks — there seems to be one on every corner — for a quick breakfast, then set out on my day of seeing things Edward isn't interested in.

I stop first at the Museum of Modern Art, then spend a couple hours shopping along Fifth Avenue. Both Edward and Charlotte have birthdays coming up in a few weeks, so I make sure to get gifts for them… along with a few items for me, of course. As I walk through FAO Schwartz, I wonder if Edward actually would've enjoyed this store given that he's still a huge kid. Just as I am thinking about him, my phone beeps with an incoming text.

**Judges are deliberating the appetizer round.**

On my way back to the hotel to drop off my purchases, I grab lunch at Ellen's Stardust Diner, a diner-style restaurant complete with singing waiters and waitresses, then check out M&M World and Hershey's for my chocolate fix.

When I'm once again empty-handed, I walk down Broadway to visit the huge Macy's store. It's funny how I shopped only at Walmart for two and a half years, but now that I have a child to buy for, I could shop all the time at different stores.

Just as I reach Macy's, I get another text.

**I think I'm a shoe-in for the dessert round.**

I smile, heading inside for some more retail therapy. A couple of hours later, I'm back at the hotel dropping off more bags. Then, I walk toward the east to see the famous Grand Central Station, before taking the subway down to Union Square. At this point, I'm probably only a mile away from the Food Network studios. I could get there easily via subway — if only guests were allowed to watch the taping.

Just off Union Square is my dinner destination, Max Brenner. While known for its chocolate, it also has food. I order a grilled chicken panini and then drool over the chocolate menu, finally settling on a sinful chocolate chunk cookie, served with whipped cream, berries and melted chocolate.

Totally stuffed — and on a sugar high — I make my way back uptown toward the hotel to wait for Edward. I never got another text from him to let me know if he made the dessert round, or how things went. I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad sign. I'm so nervous for him. I know how much winning the ten thousand dollars would mean to him.

While I'm waiting, I call Esme to check on Charlotte. I even get to talk to my daughter for a little while when she wakes up from her nap, though trying to have a phone conversation with an almost-three-year-old is quite a challenge.

I figure that unless he's completely exhausted, Edward is going to show up wanting sex — either in celebration of winning, or as a consolation after a tough loss. I went way out of my comfort zone and purchased a sexy red negligee on my shopping escapade this morning, so I change into that and wait for Edward on the bed.

My body never completely went back to its pre-pregnancy shape but that hasn't stopped Edward from wanting to make love to me at every opportunity. I've come to just accept the fact that my gorgeous, sexy husband is a horndog. But only for me. He doesn't even _look_ at other women when I'm around. I have no doubts whatsoever about his fidelity, and it's so… freeing. I am truly happy.

The only thing that would make us any happier right now would be to have another child. While he couldn't possibly love his lookalike daughter any more, I know Edward wants a son. Given how easily I've been able to get pregnant in the past, it's surprising that after months of trying, I'm still not pregnant. I know I'm older now, but I'm not _that_ old.

I hear the sound of the door opening and an exhausted-looking Edward steps into our hotel room. I quickly jump up from the bed, ready to either comfort him or celebrate with him.

"What in God's name are you wearing?" he growls, his eyes looking me up and down.

"Uh… I bought this today as a surprise for you."

"You about gave me a heart attack," he chuckles, stepping closer.

"God, you smell," I tell him, wrinkling my nose and taking a step back.

"Sorry — it was hot as hell under the studio lights. I'm sure I was sweating like a pig," he laughs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and flopping backwards, his feet still on the floor.

"So did you win?" I ask tentatively.

Edward lifts his head, smirking at me. "Reach in my pocket," he says, nodding his head toward his left pants pocket.

Confused, I do as I'm told and pull out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, I take moment to register what I'm seeing.

It's a check, in the amount of $10,000.

"You won!" I squeal.

"Of course," he chuckles. "Was there any doubt?" A wink tells me that he's only teasing.

"Oh my God, this is amazing! Tell me everything."

"Nope," he replies. "You have to wait to see the episode like everyone else. It should air in July."

"Edward…" I pout.

"Seriously," he begins, lifting his head again, "They really like to protect the outcome of the show. I'm not supposed to tell anyone except you that I won. And I can't talk about the details."

Oh, I bet I can make him tell me everything. I walk over to the bed, leaning over to pop the button on Edward's pants. As I slide the zipper down, he lifts his head again and I recognize the hungry look in his eyes. I start to tug his pants and boxers down and he lifts his hips to help me.

I brush my fingers back and forth over his cock, watching as it hardens, before grasping it in my hand.

"You think you're gonna bribe me with a blow job into telling you about the show, don't you?" he smirks.

I smirk back, dropping to my knees, and take his cock in my mouth. Edward surprises me by sitting up, brushing my hair out of my face and holding onto it so he can watch as I take his cock in again and again, laving it with my tongue. I suck hard on the tip, feeling so powerful when he hisses his pleasure.

I still haven't mastered deep throating, but I try my best to take his entire length in, because I know how much he loves it.

"Your mouth is so good, baby," he moans, thrusting lightly. "Oh fuck," he screams moments before hot fluid hits the back of my throat. I swallow quickly, smirking at him as I release his cock from my mouth.

"That was awesome, baby. But I'm still not going to tell you."

I lean back on my heels, crossing my arms.

"Fuck, don't do that. You look so hot with your tits pushed up. I need a few minutes here," he chuckles before standing.

"I'm gonna go take a shower. I'll be back," he states, in his best Terminator impersonation.

Shaking my head, I grab a bottle of water out of the minibar fridge and move onto the bed to wait for my husband.

The sight that greets me five minutes later makes my mouth fall open. Edward comes out of the bathroom buck naked, water droplets still falling down his chest. He looks like he took a towel to his hair but it's still damp. How did I _ever_ get so lucky as to have him warming my bed each night?

My sexy beast comes to stand in front of me, his eyes taking everything in. "If you don't want that torn to pieces, I suggest you undress yourself."

I quickly obey, pulling the negligee over my head and doing my best strip tease with the matching panties. Edward is practically drooling as he stands there watching. I can hardly take my eyes off his cock, hardening without any manual help. Suddenly he growls, climbing onto the bed and covering my body with his own.

"I love you, baby. Thank you for encouraging me to apply for the show."

Before I can reply, he's kissing me, his hands wandering all over my naked flesh. Goosebumps erupt as he begins kissing and licking his way down from my mouth, across my collarbone, until he's lavishing my breasts with attention. As many times as we've come together, every single time feels new and different. Every single time makes me breathless.

When Edward scoots down the bed, I know what's coming next, but I still cry out when his tongue touches me — his very, very talented tongue. If anything, he's gotten even better at this in the last three and half years, now that he knows my body so well.

It doesn't take long before I'm flying, crying out my orgasm. I'm still shuddering when Edward lifts my hips, sliding inside. He grasps my hands, holding them up above my head. "I wish you'd let me tie you up again," he says.

"But I like to touch you," I moan, pulling my hands free and scratching my nails down his back. I reach down and grasp his ass, pulling him in deeper. "I love you so much." I cry out when he hits just the right spot inside me. "And I'm so proud of you."

"Fuuuccckkk…" he moans, thrusting harder and faster. "You know what those words do to me."

I giggle. Of course I do. Moments later, I'm no longer giggling, I'm screaming his name as my orgasm rockets through me. Edward quickly follows, grunting loudly as he comes.

When my mind clears, Edward is still on top of me, still inside me. I pull him by the hair until he brings his mouth to me. I squeeze my internal muscles, watching his eyes roll back in his head.

"You'd better stop that unless you're up for a second round."

"Maybe I am," I whisper, doing it again.

* * *

**A/N: **Yay, he won! :) As moosals pointed out, Bella should've stopped prior to, uh, completion if she wanted to bribe him for the details.

I totally forget what kind of sinful chocolate goodness I ordered at Max Brenner, so it must not have made much of an impression.

Part 4 tomorrow! Whatever will Edward plan this time for their last day in NYC? ;)


	35. Epilogue 2, Part 4

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Last day in NYC!

* * *

_May 2016_

I have to practically drag Edward out of bed on Saturday morning, but we have to get going; we have tickets for the ferry to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Once we return to Manhattan, we visit Battery Park before making a solemn stop at Ground Zero. We spend the rest of the day near the southern tip of Manhattan, seeing Wall Street, the South Street Seaport and the Brooklyn Bridge.

Late in the afternoon, we return to the hotel to change and go to dinner. I bought a new blue dress yesterday at Macy's that I'm eager to show Edward. If the look in his eyes when I come out of the bathroom wearing it is any indication — he likes it.

Edward rolls his eyes at me, given that he works in an Italian restaurant, but I am determined to try real New York style pizza before we leave. Because we're going to a Broadway show at 8pm, I tried to find a pizzeria near the Theater District while researching this trip, finally settling on John's Pizzeria, located in a converted church with custom stained glass windows.

Trying to find a show that Edward would agree to see was also quite the challenge. The whole idea of musical theater doesn't appeal to him, but I insisted that we have to attend a Broadway show in New York. Eventually I talked him into Rock of Ages, as something "cool" enough for him because it's not traditional Broadway songs.

After the show — which he did enjoy, thank you very much — we walk the couple of blocks back to the hotel together. We have a 9:30am flight tomorrow so we'll need to leave the hotel pretty early in the morning.

Once we reach our room, I move quickly to the window to close the blackout drapes. I'm startled when Edward throws his arms around my waist from behind, nuzzling my neck.

"How adventurous are you feeling?" he asks.

"That depends on what you had in mind."

I feel his grin against my neck as he lifts my arms, placing them on the window. A rush of cool air hits my back as he slowly unzips my dress. And then I feel his arms come around me, inside the dress, holding the weight of my bra-covered breasts in his hands. I can't hold in my moan as he brushes his thumbs over my nipples.

Just as quickly, his hands are gone from my breasts, reappearing under the hem of my dress as he slowly drags my panties down. He places a soft kiss on my neck before lifting the back of the dress until it's resting on my lower back.

"Edward," I warn, "Someone will see us!"

"We're on the 19th floor, Bella," he replies. I can almost hear him rolling his eyes.

"Yes, but… there are other tall buildings in New York."

"Not for a couple blocks. Come on, don't you want to do something naughty?" he asks, nipping at my ear. "No one will ever recognize us. And no one will see your body; I won't let them."

"I—" My protest dies out as his fingers move between my legs.

"Mmm…" he moans. "You're turned on by the thought of this. You just won't admit it."

I hear the zipper as Edward unzips his jeans, and moments later he's buried inside me. I forget the possibility of an audience and surrender to the feeling of Edward's cock moving inside me.

"You're so beautiful when you're all flushed, baby. I wish everyone could see how I make you feel."

"You're such a caveman," I chuckle, crying out as one of his hands moves from my hip to between my legs.

"But—" Thrust— "You love me."

"I do, Edward. God…" I'm no longer able to speak. My legs are starting to shake and I know I'm just seconds away from exploding.

"Who is the only one who will ever make you feel like this?" he growls.

"Y—you are," I mumble. "God, Edward!" I scream out my orgasm, holding on to the window for support as he continues to piston his hips.

"Love you, baby," he moans as he finally comes, collapsing forward onto me. "Always."

* * *

**A/N: **Bella's a champ for going along with whatever wants... inside, at least.

Sorry so short. I wrote it this short when the Epilogue was running long, but then when it ended up even longer than anticipated and I decided to split it up, I never could find a way I liked to extend the chapter.

Last part tomorrow. :( Finally we'll meet Emmett!


	36. Epilogue 2, Part 5

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

This is it, we've finally reached the end. Hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

_July 2016_

The premiere date of Edward's Chopped episode has finally arrived. It's a huge night for our family, and the Cullens have invited a few of their and our closest friends over to watch it with us. To be honest, Edward has really drifted away from his old friends over the last three years. As he grew up and most of them… didn't, they no longer had a lot in common.

Since it's a Tuesday night, only a few people could make it. Among the guests are Edward's brother Emmett and his six-months-pregnant wife Rosalie, who are in town for a few weeks, one of only a handful of times that I've seen them in person. Since his release from prison, Edward has formed a tentative brotherly relationship with Emmett, which I am so happy to see.

Carlisle barbecued dinner out in the backyard earlier, and as 7pm arrives, we all gather in the family room to watch Edward's big TV debut. No one, besides me and the owner of Bella Italia, knows the results of the show. I still don't know any details, so I'm very much looking forward to seeing it. Not as much as our daughter though; Charlotte has been crowing to everyone at her preschool for the last two weeks that her daddy is going to be on TV.

"Bella?" Edward asks, standing in the doorway. "Can I get another beer?"

I know what he's really asking is if I'm comfortable driving home, since I won't let him drive when he's had more than one drink. I will drive now, though never in bad weather, and I avoid the freeways as much as I can. There's no way off Mercer Island without taking I-90, but if I can make it the three or four miles to 148th Avenue, then I can exit there. I've never driven on the freeways with Charlotte in the car, but I nod. I can do this.

A few moments later, Edward returns with his beer, taking a seat next to his parents on the couch since Charlotte and I already occupy his favorite recliner.

As the show begins, host Ted Allen introduces the four competitors: Eric, executive chef of his own restaurant in Los Angeles; Alec, a 25-year veteran and executive chef at a top San Francisco restaurant; Jane, a young sous chef from Portland, and Edward.

"That's Daddy!" Charlotte yells, sliding down from my lap so she can jump around the living room.

"Yes, baby, that's your daddy. Now sit down so we can watch the show, ok?" Charlotte finally takes a seat on the floor in front of me. We all listen closely as Edward introduces himself.

"_I'm sous chef at Bella Italia restaurant in Seattle, Washington. I started cooking when I was 5, and every job I've ever had has been in a restaurant kitchen, but I still feel like a bit of a late bloomer. I didn't go to culinary school until I was 24, at the urging of my girlfriend, now my wife. I got into a lot of trouble as a teenager and a lot of people wrote me off. I want to win today to prove to everyone who doubted me that I have made something of myself, but most of all I want my wife and our daughter to be proud of me. Everything I do is for them._"

As Ted explains the rules of the competition, we're all sitting on the edge of our seats, ready to see what ingredients the chefs will be working with. Finally, the contestants open their mystery baskets revealing the mandatory ingredients for the appetizer course: cube steak, salsa, queso fresco and frozen French fries.

"Hell, Bro, even I could cook something with those ingredients," Emmett snorts.

I laugh. "I could too, but I don't think it would win any points for creativity."

"Go ahead and laugh," Edward says. "Having two premade ingredients like the fries and salsa is actually much harder than starting with all raw ingredients."

We all watch transfixed as the four chefs work on their appetizers, eagerly anticipating the little interview snippets from Edward as he explains his thought processes. I don't often watch him cook, so it's fascinating to see how his mind works.

As they cook, Ted introduces the three judges for the episode: Maneet Chauhan, Amanda Freitag and Chris Santos.

"Were you happy with the judges, Edward?" I ask.

"Yeah," he nods. "I just didn't want Scott Conant in case I made a pasta." I laugh; I've seen enough Chopped episodes with Edward to know how tough Scott is on anyone who doesn't cook pasta properly.

Soon, the 20-minute timer is called and the four chefs move to the chopping block.

Eric goes first, introducing his dish of Southwestern steak frites. The judges like that his steak is spicy and love the seasoning on the fries, though they think his proportion of fries to steak is off. They also like the way he baked the queso fresco with the salsa. He seems like a shoe-in for the second round.

Alec is up next, not even attempting to hide his disdain for the ingredients as he describes his dish — also Southwestern steak frites. He made his own salsa, which the judges love, to go along with the premade salsa. For some reason, he placed a stripe of Dijon mustard on the plate, which the judges don't like at all.

Jane is third, describing her dish of chimichurri steak frites with purple potatoes. It doesn't escape my attention that all three of the other chefs just cooked the frozen French fries, albeit with their own seasonings, while we saw Edward doing something different with them. The judges rave about the way Jane cooked her steak, but complain that the fries are limp and greasy, too saturated with oil.

Finally Edward gets a chance to introduce his dish of steak and eggs, with the fries turned into a potato hash. As I expected, the judges love that he was the only one to repurpose the fries. Their only complaint is that his attempt at runny egg yolks failed and the eggs are slightly overcooked.

"I only had room in the pan for four eggs," Edward explains. "I was so afraid of the eggs being undercooked and one of the yolks breaking as I plated them that I cooked them a little too long."

The judges spend a few minutes — of TV time, anyway — deliberating before calling the four chefs back into the room. Even though I know the outcome, I groan along with everyone else when the show goes to a commercial break before revealing who was chopped.

"Put us out of our misery and tell us if you made it, Edward," Esme begs him.

He laughs. "Nope. Just a couple more minutes!"

After the commercials, Alec is revealed as the one chopped, mainly due to the combination of flavors — salsa and mustard — not working at all. He of course feels that the judges made the wrong decision. I want to laugh at his ego.

Esme and Carlisle yell out their pride in Edward for making it through the appetizer round and I can't help smiling. They're proving to be as proud of him as they are of Emmett's successes.

Then, it's time to open the mystery baskets for the entree course: blue foot chicken, broccolini, tequila and dried limes.

"I smiled when I saw the tequila," Edward chuckles.

"What on earth is blue foot chicken?" I ask him.

"Chicken with blue feet," he shrugs. Yeah, that explains it.

Charlotte screams as the camera focuses in on the chefs chopping the blue feet off the chickens. "Does it hurt?" she asks Edward.

"No, Princess, it doesn't hurt," he tries to soothe her.

All three chefs are rushing around as Ted counts down the 30 minutes. I laugh as Edward pours himself a shot glass of tequila just after time is called. He just shrugs sheepishly.

Edward is up first this time, describing his dish of blue foot chicken two ways with a side of lentils. Right away the judges complain that he undercooked the lentils — "I didn't get them in the pan early enough", he explains to us — but they praise the way he poached the chicken, which can apparently get dried out easily. One judge also complains that she can't really taste the limes in the dish.

Jane is up next with her dish of chicken with shaved broccolini "fettucine." All three judges complain that her chicken is very dry. They like the flavors in the dish, especially the sweet potato that she added as a side, but feel that the tequila and lime were underutilized.

Eric goes last, introducing his dish of stewed chicken with a lime and tequila condiment and a side of pink lentils. We all breathe a sigh of relief when the judges complain that his lentils are slightly undercooked also. Like Jane's, they feel the chicken is too dry, though they love his condiment, only questioning why he served it on the side.

As the judges deliberate, they all praise Edward for having the best-cooked chicken and I glow with pride. The three remaining chefs are called back to the chopping block, and… we go to commercial again.

After the break, Jane is revealed as the chef leaving, because her chicken was so dry as to almost be inedible. Again, the room goes wild cheering for Edward making it to the dessert round. I smile when Esme reaches over to hug him.

Eric seems like very tough competition for Edward. He's an executive chef at his own restaurant, with many years more experience than Edward has. Since I already know the outcome, I am even more proud of Edward for beating such a formidable competitor.

Eric and Edward open the mystery baskets for the dessert round: white balsamic vinegar, chocolate covered peanuts, dried cranberries and masa harina.

"What is masa harina?" I ask.

"Corn flour," Edward explains. I'm too embarrassed to ask if that means it's flour made from corn.

Eric immediately starts making an ice cream, while Edward measures out the masa harina to make what he refers to as a shortcake. "Our pastry chef taught me ice cream and shortcake," he laughs. Eric seems to be having trouble with his ice cream, putting the base in a blast chiller to get it cold enough for the ice cream machine while time ticks by too quickly for him.

When time is called, both chefs move to the chopping block to introduce their dishes. Eric goes first, describing his masa harina ice cream with cranberry sauce. The judges love his ice cream with chopped peanuts mixed in, but feel that the sauce is too tart, and that the dish just isn't complete without some sort of garnish. Eric sheepishly admits that he'd never serve it like that without a garnish at his restaurant.

Edward is next, introducing his masa harina shortcake with cranberry and blueberry chutney. He was worried that his cake was too dry, but the judges think it's delicious. They also praise the way the fresh blueberries cut the tartness of the cranberries and vinegar.

As the judges deliberate, they note that Edward's dessert showed more technique, but the final round is judged based on the entire meal, not just the dessert.

We all hold our breaths as the two chefs are called back to the chopping block for the final decision. Ted lifts the cover, revealing Eric's ice cream. Everyone in the room applauds, congratulating Edward.

"Hey, Ed-O," Emmett says, reaching over to slap his brother on the back, "You made it to the top before me! I don't have a Super Bowl ring yet."

"I wouldn't say I'm at the top," Edward replies with a grin, "But thanks." He's trying to be modest, but I can see the way he's smiling, glowing with pride.

"Your Daddy won, sweetie," I tell Charlotte, who's looking around the room in confusion at all of the yelling and cheering.

"He won?"

"Yes," I nod.

"Go, Daddy!" she yells, climbing up onto Edward's lap to throw her little arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

"Thanks, Princess," he whispers, discreetly trying to wipe the tears from his eyes.

I stand up slowly, knowing this is the perfect time to make my announcement.

"Um, so, winning Chopped wasn't Edward's only victory that weekend," I begin to looks of confusion.

"What else did I win?" Edward asks, looking adorably confused.

"You managed to knock up your wife," I tell him. I want to laugh as his jaw drops in surprise.

"You're pregnant?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yes," I nod happily. "I took a home test last Friday and just had it confirmed at my doctor's today."

Still holding Charlotte in one arm, Edward jumps up from the couch and throws his other arm around me, kissing me passionately.

"Ewww, Daddy! You don't eat her face!"

Edward pulls back, laughing. "Sorry, Princess. Did you understand what Mommy said?" She shakes her head no. "You're going to be a big sister. We're going to have a baby."

Charlotte's brows furrow for a moment, before she smiles brightly. "Baby like Aunt Alice has?" she asks, referring to Alice and Jasper's six-month-old daughter, Alanna.

"That's right," I smile.

"When do we get her?" she asks eagerly.

I laugh. "Not for a long time yet, sweetie. Another seven months or so." I don't have the heart to tell her that it might be a baby boy.

"After Christmas," Edward adds, putting it into terms a three-year-old can understand.

"Congratulations, Bella," Esme says, standing up to hug me. "Soon this house will be so full of grandchildren." She takes Charlotte from Edward's arms so he can kiss me again.

"I love you, baby," he whispers.

"I love you too."

* * *

**A/N: **The Chopped details are from Season 10, Episode 4, which was repeated a few weeks ago. I made up the competitors' identities, duh.

Thanks to all of you who've read, reviewed, followed and favorited this story! Cheekyward thanks you as well, unless you still don't like him. ;)

Thanks again to my pre-reader, moosals, who has been there since the first inkling of a plot bunny for this story popped into my head.

To reviewer **Susan** who's always a Guest: Thanks for your support and love for this story! Sign in some time so I can PM you and say hi. :)

I know you guys want a few outtakes! Or maybe one more future take? They'll pop up as I get the opportunity and inspiration to write them.

For those who've asked, I do have another story planned. I started writing it back in May but just wasn't feeling Edward, especially in comparison to Cheeky. I'll get back to it when my head moves off of this story. Like always, I'll pre-write before it's posted, so it'll be awhile. Keep me on author alert if you want to know when it's posted. :)


	37. Birth Outtake

**Author's Note: **Hello again! How about an outtake? :)

Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. I've never had a baby so she had to set me straight on a few things! Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Big news at the bottom!

* * *

_Tuesday, June 18, 2013_

"Aaaarrrrggghhh…

I scream, wanting to bang my head against the wall of the shower. How in the hell am I supposed to shave my legs when I can't even see them?

And forget about even _trimming_ the… bikini area. I haven't been able to see _that_ in months.

I give up, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. I sigh loudly as I towel off. Does it really matter if my legs are smooth and hairless? That isn't enough to make me attractive at this stage.

It's been 15 days since Edward and I have had sex. That's a record for us.

From the day I stepped onto the scale at my doctor's appointment and learned that I weighed two pounds more than my boyfriend, we have not had sex. Oh, he tried to get me naked that night, but there was no way I could get in the mood when I felt like a beached whale.

And after a few more days, he stopped asking. Even _Edward_ doesn't want to have sex with me right now, so I know it's bad.

It's been three days since my daughter's due date.

To say I want this baby out of me right-the-fuck-now would be an understatement. I'm willing to do anything and everything to make that happen.

Step one was walking around my neighborhood this afternoon, now that I've started my maternity leave. Opinions seem to vary on whether or not walking can bring on labor, but I figured it couldn't hurt.

Step two was having Mexican food for dinner with Alice tonight since every old wives' tale says spicy foods can induce labor.

And step three is… seducing my boyfriend when he comes home from work. I have no idea how I can convince Edward to have sex looking the way I do, and with hairy legs to boot!

I'm too huge for any of the normal clothes I wear to bed, so I throw on a XXXL t-shirt that I finally broke down and bought a month or so ago. Edward put it on once and he practically swam in it. Yeah, remembering that doesn't exactly make me feel better. I decide to forego my underwear.

I climb into bed, propping a few pillows behind me as I lean against the headboard, and reach for the remote control. It's Tuesday, which means it's Chopped night — yes, Edward has got me watching that show with him.

It's around 9:20 when I hear the garage door opening, signaling Edward's arrival. He usually takes a shower when he gets home, to wash off the smell of the restaurant, so I know I have a few minutes to psych myself up for this.

"Hey, baby," he smiles when he walks into the bedroom. "You're in bed early."

"It's the only place I can be semi-comfortable," I shrug. _And the only place we can still have sex._

Edward gives me a sympathetic look, kissing me lightly on the mouth. "Nothing yet?"

"No," I shake my head.

"I'll join you in a minute," he promises, shedding his clothes on the floor as he makes his way to the bathroom.

When I hear the shower turn off, I know it's almost game time. I have no idea how to approach this. Should I take the slow approach, snuggle up to him and start kissing his neck when he climbs into bed? Or should I just go for the direct approach and ask him for sex?

I realize that I have zero experience in seducing Edward. Well, that's not entirely true — I did wake him up with a handjob right after we got back together. Maybe I should reach for his cock after he gets into bed?

"What are you thinking so hard about?" my very hot, very naked boyfriend asks as he walks back into the bedroom.

"Huh?" is my brilliant comeback.

"Your forehead is all wrinkled," he says as he sits on the edge of the bed, tugging the covers down. "Oh cool, you're watching Chopped."

Great, I can't even hold his interest over _cooking_ on television.

At the next commercial break, Edward turns to me, rubbing his hand over my humongous stomach. "How are you doing in there, little girl?" he says softly. "Are you giving your mama trouble?"

"She is," I agree, "By refusing to come out. Maybe… um, maybe you can help with that."

Edward looks up at me, keeping his hand on my stomach. "You know I'll do anything I can, Bella, but I don't know how to convince my daughter that it's time to be born."

"Well, um, I've been reading up on different ways to induce labor naturally, and…"

"And what?" he asks when I don't finish.

"And one of the more common ways is… to have sex," I finish in a whisper.

"Having sex can induce labor?" he asks, sounding shocked.

"Um, yeah, some doctors and midwives think so. Something about hormones released during sex being similar to the medications used to induce labor," I explain.

"So why are you just sitting there? Let's try it," he replies with a grin.

"I didn't think you wanted to have sex with me anymore," I shrug. "I mean, you haven't asked in at least ten days."

Edward rolls his eyes. "Well, you kept saying no, so I figured why bother asking. That doesn't mean that I didn't want to. I always want to."

"Even though I resemble a beached whale?" I ask skeptically.

"You do not," he insists. "You just look like you swallowed a basketball."

"Edward, my ass has grown by several inches."

"So? I've always liked your ass, and now there's more for me to…" he replies, waggling his eyebrows. "Do you want to have sex or not?"

"Yes," I whisper. "I'm willing to try anything."

"Then turn off the TV and get naked," he orders.

My eyes widen, but I quickly hunt down the remote control and shut the TV off, leaving it on the nightstand. I reach down to the bottom hem of my T-shirt and pull it up over my head.

"Well, well, well… no underwear?"

I shrug, giving him a small smile.

"Come on and lie down," he urges, pulling me down until I'm lying on my side facing him.

"How could you ever think I didn't want you?" he asks quietly as he strokes his fingers through my hair. "I just got tired of being shot down. I still want you, baby. Always."

Edward kisses me softly, his hand moving from my hair to stroke over my shoulder and down my back. I reach out, pulling him closer to me — well, as close as he can get with my stomach in the way.

We kiss for several minutes before he reaches for one of my breasts, kneading it softly before scooting down to take my nipple in his mouth while he rubs my stomach. I'm startled when the hand that was on my stomach moves down to stroke gently between my legs.

"Do you want me to use my tongue on you?" he asks.

"I'm not sure how you can reach around my stomach." He rolls his eyes in response.

"Can you flip over, or should I climb over you?"

"Uhhh… I don't think I can move."

Edward quickly gets up, climbing over my legs. With my huge stomach in the way, I hadn't even seen that he was already hard. He settles in behind me, bringing his right arm around to rub my stomach again.

"Relax, baby," he whispers. Eventually his hand moves down, resuming the rhythmic stroking. He lifts my right leg up over his to open me up more, then continues his gentle strokes while he leaves soft kisses on the back of my neck and shoulders.

Soon, he begins pressing harder with his fingers, circling my clit. I can't hold in my moans; it's been too long since I felt this good.

As soon as I fall over the edge, Edward's fingers are gone as he grasps his hard cock, pushing inside.

"Shit," he gasps. "God, I have missed this."

He begins to thrust slowly, always gentle, as if he's somehow afraid of hurting the baby. "I love you so much, baby," he whispers as his fingers resume their movements. "Two weeks without you is torture — I have no idea how I'm gonna last six weeks without this."

"You lasted over three months before," I point out. I immediately regret my words — Edward and I really don't talk about his time in prison. He'd like to just forget it and move on.

"True," he agrees, his thrusts speeding up slightly. "At least now I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel. And you promised blowjobs, right?"

"Only you would think about blowjobs while we're having sex."

In response, he hugs me tighter, turning my head so he can kiss me. "You know I prefer being inside you, but your mouth is a decent substitute."

"You say the sweetest things," I reply rolling my eyes.

He chuckles, speeding up a little more. "Are you close?" I nod as his thrusts become more erratic. He presses hard on my clit and I cry out my orgasm rushes through me.

"Oh fuck," he moans as I feel him coming deep inside me. He pulls out after a few moments, flopping onto his back.

"We're doing that again every few hours until you're in labor," he announces.

"Ok by me… now go get something to clean up. I really don't think I can move."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replies, kissing me before climbing out of bed.

* * *

_Wednesday, June 19, 2013, 4:37am_

"Bella."

"Bella," he says more urgently.

"Hmm? What?" I ask, more than half asleep.

"You wet the bed."

At that, my eyes pop open. "What?"

"You wet the bed," he repeats.

"I did not, because I could really stand to go now."

"Well, the bed's all wet," he insists.

Oh fuck. "Edward, turn the light on." I feel the bed moving as he sits up, reaching over to the lamp on the nightstand. Sure enough, there's a huge wet spot underneath me.

"Um, I didn't wet the bed, Edward," I tell him. "I think my water broke."

'Your water…?"

"The amniotic sac surrounding the baby. We need to go to the hospital."

"Fuck, you're in labor? It worked!" he says brightly.

"Yes, yes, your magic peen worked, now help me get up and get some clothes on."

In a flash, Edward is out of bed, digging around in a drawer for a pair of boxers. I'm not sure I've ever seen him move so fast, unless it was to get my clothes _off_. I manage to get out of bed to use the bathroom and attempt to make myself presentable. When I come out, Edward is waiting to help me into panties and sweat pants, then reaches down to grab the T-shirt I wore to bed.

We've had a bag packed for a couple of weeks already, so he carries that out to the car, promising to come right back for me.

"Should I carry you?" he asks when he returns to the bedroom.

"You can't carry me," I grouse.

"Of course I can."

"I can walk." I wouldn't want him to throw his back out.

Edward puts an arm around my shoulders, helping me to the garage, then opens the car door for me. I want to laugh when I see that he's put a couple of towels down on the passenger seat.

"Oh fuck," I yell as we pull into the street. I'm going to assume that sharp pain in my stomach was a contraction.

"What? What is it?" Edward replies, slamming on the brakes.

"Just a contraction. It startled me. Go on."

Edward hits the gas pedal, looking at me worriedly every few seconds. "I'm fine, Edward," I try to reassure him. "Everything's going to be fine."

I pull out my cell phone to call everyone and let them know what's happening, but then I see the time and realize it's not even 5am. No point in waking everyone up when it's going to be hours yet.

It's 8am in Florida though, so I call my mom, letting her know that we're going to the hospital. Mom is planning to come stay with us for a week after I come home from the hospital, since she's off work for the summer.

Now that I'm going to be a mother myself, I have been trying to rebuild my relationship with Renee. I finally told her the whole truth about Edward, apologizing for misleading her. Of course she was hurt that I had felt like I couldn't tell her my baby daddy was an escaped convict. I haven't been able to see her in person, but I'm looking forward to her visit.

When we arrive at the hospital, Edward stops the car in front of the Main Entrance and rushes inside, coming back out with a nurse pushing a wheelchair.

"I'll park the car and be right in, ok?" he asks me, stroking my hair as he helps me into the chair. "I love you." He kisses me soundly before heading back to the driver's seat.

"Now that's a hot piece of man meat," the 50-something nurse says with a wink.

* * *

_7:27am_

Edward sits on my bed in the labor and delivery room, rubbing my back through another contraction. Even though my water broke, I'm not yet in active labor and my contractions are pretty infrequent. My doctor isn't here yet, but the doctor on duty says it's going to be awhile.

"Are you ok, baby?" Edward asks for about the hundredth time.

"I'm fine," I assure him. The nurses are taking my blood pressure every 30 minutes or so when they check the baby's heart rate, and it's perfectly normal, but I know Edward is scared because of what happened with his mother.

"Is it supposed to hurt this much?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Alice had some pretty vivid descriptions of labor that I'm sure you'd rather not hear about."

He pulls me to him, kissing the top of my head. When he lets me go, I can still see the fear in his eyes — he's almost making _me_ afraid. I need to get rid of him for a little bit.

"Why don't you go be useful and call everyone now that it's not so early?"

"You mean my mom and Alice?" he asks.

"And Charlie."

Edward eyes widen as he stares at me. "You want me to call your dad?"

I roll my eyes at my chicken shit boyfriend. "We're not supposed to have cell phones on in the hospital, so you have to do it — go outside and call them."

He looks like he wants to be ill, but he leaves the room — giving me at least a few minutes of peace.

* * *

_10:22am_

I. Am. Starving.

Edward came back from making the phone calls reporting that he left a voice mail for my dad, but was able to reach both Esme and Alice, both of whom promised to be here as soon as they are able to rearrange their work schedules. Carlisle also said he'd stop by if he has a few minutes free during his shift. I really hope at least one of them brings me some breakfast while the doctors will still let me eat.

A strong contraction makes me stop thinking of my empty stomach. As I cringe in pain, I happen to glance at Edward's face. He's going to make me insane by the time this child is born.

"Edward, please relax," I tell him as soon as I can speak.

"I just… I hate to see you in pain."

"It's only going to get worse. I need you here beside me, but you're not helping right now."

"She's right, Edward," Esme says as she walks into the room. "Bella needs you to be strong for her. She will be _fine_."

Esme walks over to the bed and I notice for the first time the bag in her hand.

"Is that what I think it is?" I ask excitedly.

"It sure is," she replies with a smile, opening the bag to pull out cinnamon rolls from the bakery near her office. She's brought enough for all three of us, but I make sure to get in there first.

"Oh my God," I moan as I take a bite. "I was starving; you're a lifesaver."

Esme laughs. "I remember having a very long day with nothing to eat when I was in labor with Emmett."

"Alice said it might be mid-afternoon before she can clear her schedule. Should I ask her to bring us lunch?" Edward asks.

I nod, my mouth too full of cinnamon-y goodness to speak.

"I should probably call the restaurant, too. They knew it would be any day now."

"Good idea," I agree after swallowing.

* * *

_2:02pm_

When sitting on the birthing ball does me no good, I start walking around the room, trying to encourage this baby to get a move on, while Edward walks with me. He's afraid I'm going to have a strong contraction and fall. Dr. Senna came by and checked me out about 10 minutes ago, determining that I am officially in active labor, though we're still looking at several more hours.

Edward is still making me a little crazy, but he's trying. Having Esme here to explain what is happening to me is wonderful, even if it has been 25 years since she gave birth herself.

"Hello, hello!" Alice calls as she steps into the room. "How are things going?"

"Slowly," I complain.

Thanks to Edward's second phone call, Alice is a doll bringing all of us sandwiches, so we sit down to eat. But with my contractions getting worse, I can only manage half of mine.

"How soon can I have an epidural?" I ask the nurse then next time she stops by.

"Not quite yet," is her only response.

As the hours go by, Edward sits on one side of me, Alice on the other, while Esme sits in a chair nearby, trying different things to get my mind off of what is going on. When Carlisle stops by, I take the opportunity to shoo Edward and Esme out for a few minutes so I can talk to Alice.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asks curiously.

"I just wanted to thank you for being here with me. You went through this yourself just a few years ago, so it's great to hear from you what I should be expecting. It means a lot to me," I tell her, feeling myself start to get choked up.

"Of course, Bella," she replies, hugging me. "What are friends for?"

I stare down at my hands, ashamed. "I wasn't a very good friend to you for a long time. I wasn't there with you when Josh was born."

"No, you weren't there," she agrees, "But I understood why you couldn't be. I had my mom and my sister with me, but sure it would've been nice to have my best friend, too. It's water under the bridge now though. Please don't worry about it, Bella."

I nod, giving her a small smile.

* * *

_7:18pm_

When the anesthesiologist arrives to administer my epidural, I send the others down to the hospital cafeteria to get dinner. I'm relegated to ice chips now that I've nearly reached the transition stage.

Edward doesn't want to leave, and one person is allowed to stay, but he also doesn't want to watch someone stick a needle in my back. My blood pressure is still absolutely fine, but he can't stop worrying that something will happen to me just like with his mom.

I can't say that having a needle stuck in my back is fun, but the effects are almost immediate — so worth it.

When the group returns, they've brought a fourth person with them. "Dad!" I call out, now floating thanks to the awesome anesthesiologist.

"How are you doin', kiddo?" he asks, hugging me.

"Much better now that I have good drugs," I smile.

When my dad moves back a couple of steps, Edward resumes his place by my side, kissing the top of my head and rubbing my back though I can't really feel most of it. I know Charlie makes him nervous and he wants to show that he can take care of me.

"I wasn't sure I was gonna make it time," Dad remarks. "I got on the road as soon as I could find someone to take over my shift."

"You're here in plenty of time — unfortunately. The doctor said transition can take up to three hours in a first-time mom, and then I can start pushing."

"How long will the pushing take?" Edward asks, checking the time on his phone.

"I pushed for 90 minutes," Alice pipes up.

"Hmm…"

"What is it?" I ask curiously.

"We have four hours and 15 minutes until midnight."

"So?"

"Bella, it's June 19, that means tomorrow is the 20th — my birthday. Wouldn't it be awesome for our daughter to be born on my birthday?"

"It would be more awesome for her to be born in the next 15 minutes."

* * *

_10:22pm_

If I could, I would jump for joy when my doctor says I'm ready to begin pushing. The gang — minus Edward — are ushered out and it's time to really get down to business.

Edward sits on the bed next to me, one arm around my shoulders while he holds my hand tightly in his other hand. I can tell he's still scared, but he's trying to remember everything we learned in our childbirth classes so he can help me along.

When I'm not able to push well, the nurses cut back on the medication in my epidural. It's more painful this way, but if it gets the baby out faster, that's all that matters to me right now.

"You're doing great, Bella," Edward whispers after a particularly strong contraction. "I love you so much. I wish I could do this for you so you never have to feel pain."

"I wish you could, too," I growl. _As if a man could cope with this kind of pain…_

"Almost there, Bella," my doctor calls. "I can see the head. Daddy, would you like to come see?"

Edward looks over at me, wide-eyed, squeezing my hand tightly. "You can look," I tell him when he hesitates. Slowly, he stands up, making his way to the end of the bed.

"Holy—" And he goes white as a sheet. One hand over his mouth, he comes back to me, shakily re-taking his place at my side.

I want to ask him if he's ok, but another painful contraction distracts me. When it's finally over, I turn to him. "What's wrong?" I pant.

"There was so much blood, and… and you know, a huge… hole."

I roll my eyes. "How else is an eight-pound human gonna get out?"

"Yeah, but…"

"It shrinks back."

"Promise?"

Yeah, I reach over and smack him. Hard.

* * *

_Thursday, June 20, 2013, 12:01am_

"One more push, Bella! Almost here."

When my next contraction hits, I bear down as hard as I can, and suddenly the enormous pressure is gone.

"It's a girl!" someone yells the moment I hear my daughter's first cry.

Tears fill my eyes as a nurse takes the baby, placing her on my chest. "Here's your daughter, Bella."

I smile down at the squirmy, messy baby, too full of love for her to even cry.

"Daddy, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?"

Edward nods slowly, seeming to be in some sort of stupor as he follows the nurse and baby girl across the room. Once the cord is cut, he stands guard as she is weighed and measured, while I work on delivering the placenta.

After I'm cleaned up, I send Edward out of the room to tell the troops in the waiting area — if they're still awake — while the baby and I are moved to my postpartum room in the mother/baby unit. He joins us a few minutes later, looking exhausted. "They're going home," he whispers. "Your dad is gonna stay with my parents."

"All right," I sigh in relief. I'm really too exhausted to deal with everyone right now.

After I'm settled in, the nurse brings me the swaddled bundle. "Here she is!" she says brightly. "All of her stats look very good. She was 20 inches long and 7 lbs 12 oz."

"Was she born after midnight?" Edward asks.

"Yes," she nods. "At five minutes after midnight."

"Happy birthday, Edward," I whisper as he beams.

"Would you like to hold her?" she asks him.

"Oh, I — Bella can hold her first," he replies shyly.

The nurse smiles, placing my daughter in my arms. "You should try breastfeeding now while she's still awake." I nod, placing the baby against my breast. With a little help from the lactation consultant who arrives just in time, she latches on, sucking greedily.

"I'll leave you to it," she says, slipping from the room.

As the baby nurses, I stroke her soft, light hair, opening the blanket to count all of her fingers and toes. Edward sits beside me, mostly just staring at her, though he does run a pinky over the top of her head. And then he looks down at my chest, his brow furrowed.

"So, um, the milk just comes out when she sucks?"

"That's right," I nod.

"And if I suck on them…?"

"I don't think my breasts will know the difference between you and her," I laugh.

"So I'll get a mouthful of breast milk?" he asks, looking horrified. When I nod, he wrinkles his nose and I just want to laugh at him.

"You know, for some men it's a fetish to drink milk from their partner," I point out.

"Yeah, I don't think that'll be me." He stares quietly for a moment before turning to look at me. "I've never had breast milk."

"What?"

"I've never had it," he repeats.

Oh! His mom. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have," I agree quietly.

Shortly after the baby falls asleep enjoying her meal, I burp her as I was shown in our prenatal classes. The lactation consultant returns to check on us while I am wrapping her back up, pleased that everything went so well for our first time.

"Have a good night," she says. "You're doing great so far, but you can call down if you have trouble feeding her later."

"In the morning, we need to think of a name for our daughter. I'm too tired now," I say once we're alone again. We had been one of _those_ couples who waited to see their child before deciding which name would be the best fit.

"Can we name her after my mom somehow?" Edward whispers.

I reach over to him, running my fingers through his messy hair. "Of course we can. Would you like to hold her now?" Edward still has hardly touched our daughter.

He shakes his head. "I don't want to drop her," he says sheepishly.

"You won't drop her; there's nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid," he says defiantly — oh, he's definitely afraid.

"Try it now while you're sitting down," I tell him, holding her out to him. Edward tentatively reaches out, letting me place the sleeping baby in his arms. He stares down at her, a look of awe on his face. "She weighs nothing," he whispers.

"You won't break her," I tell him gently. Edward continues to stare at his daughter, a traitor tear falling onto his arm.

"How'd you gain so much weight if this is all she weighs?"

"How did it go?" the way-too-chipper-for-this-hour nurse asks as she steps into the room, saving my boyfriend from certain death.

"Fine, I think."

"Great," she smiles. "Are you ready to get some sleep?" At my nod, she carefully takes my daughter from Edward's arms, placing her in the rolling crib.

"We need to take her to the nursery for a little while to check her out, make sure everything is ok," she explains. "Someone will be by in a couple of hours to bring her back to you when she's hungry. She can stay the rest of the night with you then, and I'm sure she'll loudly announce when she needs to eat again or needs her diaper changed."

"Ok," I nod, exhausted just thinking about the lack of sleep over the next few weeks.

The nurse dims the light in the room as she leaves and I gingerly try to lie down. Edward does the same, curling up beside me on the small bed.

"You know they have a reclining chair over there for the father."

"I'm not sleeping away from you," he yawns, tucking me into his side. "Love you, baby," he adds softly.

* * *

_9:28am_

"We need to think of a name for her," Edward muses as I nurse our daughter yet again. "Something with meaning."

"I was thinking of naming her after my dad," I say quietly.

"What?"

"Charlotte — it's the feminized version of Charles," I explain.

Edward gets up, digging our baby name book out of my bag. "It means free. Charlotte."

"Well, that's perfect, isn't it?" I exclaim.

"At least it doesn't really sound like Charlie," he agrees.

"Charlotte Elizabeth," I pronounce her, kissing her chubby cheek as I burp her.

"Knock knock," Alice calls, pushing the door open slightly.

"Come in," I call, smiling when the entire gang — minus my mom, who is flying in tomorrow — follows Alice into the room.

"You look good, Bella," Esme says with a smile. I smile back, knowing she's totally lying; I probably got three hours of sleep last night.

"Does she have a name yet?" Dad asks as I carefully place the sleeping baby in his arms.

"Charlotte Elizabeth Cullen," I tell him.

"She's a beauty," he coos. "I know she's my grandchild, but I'm not biased."

"Sure you're not," I laugh.

"Hey, I know newborn babies aren't really as cute as everyone makes them out to be — you sure weren't, such a scrawny thing — but Charlotte is beautiful."

"Of course she is — she's Bella's," Edward pipes up, squeezing my hand.

I watch as Grandpa Carlisle takes his turn holding Charlotte, before he places her in his wife's arms. A few tears fall as I watch Esme with her first grandchild. "Your dad is right, Bella — she is beautiful," she says with a smile.

"My turn, my turn!" Alice eagerly takes Charlotte, smiling at the adorable little faces she makes. "She _almost_ makes me ready to have another baby."

Edward sits beside me, pulling me into his chest as we watch Alice with Charlotte. I can tell she's the mother of a young child, because she just knows exactly how to handle her.

"Here you go, Edward," Alice says, holding the bundle of baby out to him.

"Oh, I—"

"You're not going to drop her, Edward," I sigh. "Show him how to hold her, Alice, so he stops whining every time."

Alice smiles a secret smile at me, carefully transferring Charlotte to Edward's colorful arms. He kind of holds her out in one arm, staring down at her. "I think she's gotten bigger already," he decides.

I look up as Esme smiles at me, leading the others from the room to give us some time alone.

"She's really ours," he says quietly.

"She is."

"I can't believe we _made_ her. I don't want to screw this up," he whispers. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Shhhh…" I try to console him, rubbing his back. "We'll figure it out together."

"I love you," he says, kissing me softly. "I love you too, Charlotte," he whispers, kissing her perfect little nose.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there you have it, baby Charlotte's birth. How did our Cheekyward do?

"Reason For Living" is currently nominated as one of the top fics completed in July 2013 over on twifanfictionrecs. If you enjoyed the story, I'd love it if you could vote for me! Voting ends September 1, and you can vote once every 24 hours. I know I can't win, but Top 10 would be awesome. Can we beat Oh Brother's Top 6 placing?


End file.
